


Marks and Mics

by DLanaDHZ



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bodyguard Derek Hale, Derek dates Jennifer for a little bit, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Singer Stiles Stilinski, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 70,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski's music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they're incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles' bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek's soulmate remains elusive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by JessicaMDawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the image, but if LunarFlare14 comes up with a better one, that'll go up too. I like mine but I also have issues with it, you know? I think it could be much better.
> 
> Beta'd by JessicaMDawn.
> 
> A youtube playlist with all 6 songs used/mentioned in the story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5d7EbtLb8ok&index=1&list=PLx9RM1CdboCAf2tRPTO9S52hnFJaz4d3g

Zero.

Derek Hale sighed, checking his wrist for the fourth time in twenty minutes. The number glowing just under his skin did not change. It didn't blink or fizzle or wiggle. It was solid and steady.

Across the room, his sister rolled her eyes and glanced at her own wrist, only she was looking at a watch like a normal person, like Derek usually would be doing. They'd been in this room for almost an hour, and while there were two comfortable couches and a very tiny kitchen set up, they had been standing the whole time. They were waiting for their clients to meet with them, but a meeting or something must have run late because the Hale siblings weren't used to waiting this long.

On a normal day, Derek would be annoyed down to his bones at being made to wait. Business clients were supposed to be professional and prompt, not an hour behind schedule. An hour behind schedule could mean disaster or an emergency, and it was literally the Hale family business to stop disaster and emergency.

But today, Derek was distracted. Truth be told, he'd been distracted for a week, but it was no better today than any of the previous days. He glanced down at his wrist again, staring at the number.

"Derek, if you don't stop staring at your numbers, you'll burn them into your skin permanently," his sister warned.

"Good. Then they won't disappear and leave me guessing," Derek answered back. "Anyway I remember when your numbers zeroed out and you basically walked around shoving your wrist in front of every new person you met... not that I'm judging."

"Bite me, Derek," she growled.

"When and where, Laura?" he growled back. "I'm allowed to be a little nervous."

Every child was born with the numbers. Scientists had been researching them for as long as humans had the ability to care about the strange countdowns on their wrists. It had to do with the aura-sphere, an invisible but very real stream of energy surrounding the planet. Science had proven decades ago that all life on the planet contained traces of the aura-sphere, and the numbers on each person's wrist were caused by a high concentration of that energy.

"Not today, you aren't. Not now. We're meeting our clients any minute and I will not have you checking your wrist every five seconds like a love sick teenager or a horny old man. We're professionals." Laura pushed off from where she was leaning against the wall and straightened the shirt on her pant suit. Her long, dark hair was tied up so masterfully in an up-do that it appeared as though she only had enough for a neat bun. "We can freak out about your lack of time later."

"I'd kind of like to freak out about it never, but since you brought it up, we are about to meet at least twelve new people and-" Derek started but Laura shushed him and the door to the room opened.

Into the waiting room walked a curly haired woman with tan skin. Her black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and her colorful shirt looked wrinkled, but it could have just been the pattern design. Behind her was a younger man with the same tan skin as the woman but his dark hair was cut too close to tell if it was curly or not. Laura gave Derek a look that meant she was thinking exactly what he was. They were related.

"Laura and Derek Hale," the woman greeted with a tired smile. "I'm Melissa McCall. Your mother and I spoke on the phone. Oh- that sounds kind of informal. Sorry. Your boss and I spoke on the phone. Better?"

Laura laughed. "Don't worry about it, Ms. McCall. We get it all the time. Family business. Just have to get used to it."

"Oh good. Well anyway, I'm pretty sure I swore your mother to secrecy about who you're escorting tonight, so as Tour Manager, let me be the first to welcome you to the 'Just My Style' Tour team," Melissa said, bowing slightly. "We are so thankful to have you with us."

"Just-" Laura's jaw dropped. "Wow, I'm not supposed to care because it's my job, but we're guarding a Stilinski? Someone give me a glass of water. I may need to go on a run." She had started breathing quickly and Derek tossed her a water bottle from the table beside him, which she caught almost without looking. After taking a few gulps, she sighed and looked sheepish. "I'm so sorry. I just-"

"Yeah forgive her," Derek interrupted. "The Stilinskis are just the only singers she has any interest in whatsoever. Separate or together. Mom probably should have warned her." He looked pointedly at his sister. "So unprofessional," he scolded. In response, she almost chucked the bottle back at him, but then she decided to drink the water instead.

Instead of glaring at their radically unprofessional reactions, Melissa was chuckling. "Oh, no worries. Talia told me all about it. I thought 'why not?' and requested you as soon as I heard. Not every day you get to meet your idols, right? And don't worry. Stiles isn't one of those self-obsessed stars. He's just... well he's a lot like a teenager."

"That's because he is one," Laura said, and she and Melissa shared some laughter and smiles before the forgotten occupant in the room cleared his throat and Melissa jumped.

"Oh, right! Sorry! Laura, Derek, this is my son, Scott. He's my assistant manager for Stiles. He'll be the liaison between you and most of the crew." She stepped back to let them all shake hands and nodded at Scott afterwards like she was complimenting his ability to do so. "And on a more serious note, this first show is sort of a trial run. The Hales are a very highly recommended security firm, but the Argents heard we were hiring you and they're offering to do the tour for half the price just to kick you guys out. Honestly, I'd rather use your family, but you know... you gotta impress more than just me tonight."

"No problem, Ms. McCall," Laura said, capping the bottle. "You've never had a better crew than the Hale family."

"That's what I like to hear."

It looked like Melissa was about to say something more, but then someone crashed into the wall outside and there was a short cry of pain. Without missing a beat, Scott darted out into the hall, as though he were the security guard and not Derek or Laura. He was barely gone a second when he called out, "Mom!"

"Excuse me a second," Melissa said, but her face had fallen into severe concern and neither Hale could ignore that. Though her words had suggested they stay put, their instincts drove them to follow her quickly out into the hall.

Scott was kneeling by a figure on the floor, but he backed up as soon as his mother got near. Laura did her best to cover a gasp. There, leaning against the wall and panting in pain, was Stiles Stilinski. His brown hair was a mess, as though he'd pulled at it and run his fingers through it multiple times, and his already pale skin was paler. His brow was sweaty and he seemed unable to hold any air in his lungs. When Melissa gently touched his wrist, he whined and pulled away from her.

"Why are you out here if it's this bad?" the manager asked quietly, evidently trying to keep the Hales from overhearing too much, but Stiles was too close to them for them not to hear.

"S-Sorry. I just-..." Stiles grit his teeth and grabbed his right forearm tightly, head falling back against the wall. "I needed- It's worse than-"

"Scott, get him back to his room," Melissa ordered, pushing herself up. "I'm calling Yukimura. She'll meet you there."

"I'm on it," Scott said confidently, but when he tried to get Stiles to his feet, the singer just hissed and fell back down. The mother-son team tried together, but Stiles' legs were unwilling to cooperate.

Pressing his lips together, Derek stepped forward and pulled Stiles to his feet. Stiles complained with a cry of pain, but Derek didn't give him time to fall again. He scooped Stiles up in his arms, not surprised to find the younger man light enough to carry. The two managers gasped, but Stiles was too distracted to care much. He peeked out through squinted eyes to see who was strong enough to lift him, but then he just squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on breathing.

"Show me the way," Derek ordered to Scott, who took a half second to look affronted before pointing down the hall and taking off as fast as his legs would take him without running.

Laura stayed behind with Melissa when they left, and Derek could imagine why. Stiles looked awful – paler than usual and sickly. His face couldn't have shown more pain if he had a gunshot wound in his stomach. Laura really admired Stiles Stilinski. There was no way she would be able to handle herself around him in this state. Even Derek had been shocked into paralysis at first. But now he just wanted to get Stiles to this Yukimura person so they could help Stiles with whatever was wrong with him.

And just what was wrong with him?

Scott rounded a corner and let out a breath of relief. "Kira," he greeted.

A young Japanese woman waited just outside of a door marked with Stiles' name, rocking nervously back and forth on her heels. When she saw Scott, her face relaxed, and when she saw Stiles, her eyes grew serious. She opened the door for them and ushered the group inside.

"Hurry up," she said as Derek carefully maneuvered through the door, wincing at every moan and short cry of pain coming from Stiles. The girl half slammed the door shut behind them. "Oops. Sorry."

"Kira," Scott gently scolded and she shook herself.

"Right. Not important. Set him down on the sofa." She dug in her bag while Derek did as told. Then he stepped back and watched her force a pill big enough to choke a horse down Stiles' throat.

Stiles forced it past his gag reflex and then pressed his lips tightly together in a sour expression. Derek could only imagine how awful something that chalky looking must taste, and he wondered again what was wrong with Stiles. He'd never seen anyone act like they'd been mortally wounded without actually having the wound. In his job, he'd seen a lot of crazy things, but definitely never something like this.

After a few excruciating minutes, Stiles calmed. His vice grip on his forearm slackened and fell away, his shaking limbs stilled, and his pained expression calmed. His breath still came in tired panting, however. Slowly, his eyes opened and he looked up at a worried Kira.

"Thanks," he grunted and even smiled at her. Kira smiled back and then knelt by him to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Next time just call me," she scolded. "Don't just wander off."

"Sorry. You're right. Sorry." Whatever medication they'd given Stiles was draining him pretty quick. His open eyes were already drooping and his lips barely parted to let out words.

"You can pay me back with some coffee. Take a nap now and my father will stop by to check on you later." Kira stood and sighed as she gave him a disapproving stare.

Within seconds of agreeing, Stiles was evidently asleep. His breathing had evened out and his head dropped carelessly to the side on the arm of the couch. Derek watched the steady rise and fall of Stiles' chest for what felt like not nearly long enough before Scott and Kira said goodbye to each other and then Scott was dragging Derek from the room.

Once in the hall with the door securely closed behind them and several feet away, Scott turned and faced Derek. "You can't tell anyone what just happened."

"I don't even know what happened," Derek pointed out. "What's wrong with him?"

"If I say it's above your pay grade, will you drop it?" Scott asked hopefully. Derek just gave him an intense look that he knew communicated every version of 'no' possible, and Scott sighed. "Look, he doesn't want other people to know, so I'm not going to tell you. It's not usually a problem, so you won't have to worry about it to do your job right. The Yukimuras take care of him. Not you. So... drop it, alright?"

"Fine," Derek agreed, but he didn't plan to drop it at all. "But if it starts to interfere with my ability to do my job, I expect to be fully informed."

"That's-... logical," Scott said after a short pause. "Fine, alright. If it starts to be a problem, I'll tell you what you need to know. But nothing more, deal?"

"Deal," Derek agreed and they shook on it.

Derek would figure out what was going on, sooner or later. A condition like that one had to be serious enough to be documented somewhere. He would just-

Except he should just let it go. Scott had a point. Stiles having some kind of medical condition wasn't relevant to Derek's job as long as it wasn't going to make Stiles pass out in front of fans or something, and according to Scott it wouldn't. He should ignore it like he would for any other client.

Casting one last look back at Stiles' room, Derek nodded and headed to find his sister.  
\-- -- -- --

It wasn't until roughly the thirteen century that people realized exactly how the countdown worked.

What it counted down too was rather well known already, although nothing official had been recorded.

Soul mates.

Every person on the planet had one true soul mate. This did not mean you couldn't date and find love on your own time. Many people got married to their not-soul mates and had happy families, but there was always the stress of the true soul mate lingering in the background. Because those numbers on every single person's wrist counted down the number of months until you met your soul mate.

It was odd science, and some biologists were still trying to figure out if the numbers could be honed to be more accurate, but as it stood there was up to a month of difference between when your numbers zeroed out and when you met your soul mate. It all linked back to the aura-sphere, of course. The energy in each person's body matched the energy in another person's body, originating from the same strand of parent energy in the aura-sphere. Your numbers were a countdown to when your energies were properly matured and aligned.

Some people met their soul mates the day after their numbers zeroed out. Some people ended up meeting theirs a full thirty days after. A lot of factors influenced the length of time – physical distance from each other, emotional state, geographical location, some even argued that sexuality played a role. But the point was that after your wrist said zero, you had a thirty day countdown. It was a guarantee, proven by centuries of human history.

And that was why Derek Hale couldn't stop looking at the small glowing zero on his wrist. He was within his month, so everyone he met was filled with potential.

Finding your soul mate was a tricky business, and the whole month countdown thing was a serious design flaw, to be quite honest. Why couldn't it be days? Or hours? Or minutes? That would clear up so much confusion. But no. It was months.

And Derek's wrist had been zeroed out for ten days.

Was it possible he'd already met his soul mate and just hadn't noticed? He had bumped into a lot of new people... but that was sort of his job. He was a body guard – a security guard. He basically told people to move a lot and tried not to be too personable.

When people said you'd "meet" your soul mate within thirty days, did they mean meet as in introduced and everything or meet as in "I told them they couldn't wait outside the bus for the band to come out and they walked away glaring at me"? What a shitty first impression. Was that what happened? What if-

“What about this?” Laura asked, reminding Derek that he was working.

As his eyes came back into focus, he realized he’d been inadvertently glaring at a temp worker that was mopping the floor. The poor guy looked wrecked as he kept glancing nervously over at Derek. When Derek looked away, the guy relaxed, and Derek tried to figure out what his sister was talking about.

Her finger was aimed at a junction point in the hallways. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything interesting, but just inside the hall that led backstage was an alcove. There was nothing in the cut out of the wall, but it was shadowed, and it would only be worse at night during concerts. While guards and ushers moved people along the adjoining hall, someone could take advantage of the chaos and slip into the backstage hall by hiding in the alcove.

“Noted,” Derek said, marking it down on the notepad he carried. “We’ll stand a guard at the corner specifically so no one slips by. Now we should go into the main hall. I think we need to consider posting someone in the balcony. There’s a window on the left side, and I think someone could easily get to it from the outside if they had a tall enough ladder to get them started.”

“Wow. Are we guarding him from assassins now?” Laura asked with a teasing grin. “So what if someone sneaks in the top window?”

Shaking his head, Derek slipped his notepad into his jacket pocket. “We’re being tested, remember? If we don’t impress them, we lose the job to the Argents. Beyond that, imagine Mom’s face if we couldn’t even properly protect one teeny bopper.”

Agitated didn’t begin to describe the reaction he got from his sister. “Teeny-? Listen here, caveman. Just because you don’t listen to the radio or anything made after 1980, doesn’t mean Stiles is a teeny bopper. He’s a seriously talented singer. Stop smirking before I rip the lips right off your face.”

“Such a threat,” Derek taunted.

Before he could continue their banter, however, a young woman raced over to the siblings, her eyes wide and fixated on Derek. Big blue eyes glanced desperately between Derek’s hazel eyes and his wrist again and again before she clapped her hands together.

“Hi, my name is Emily. What’s your name?” She asked quickly.

After a short pause, he answered, “Derek.”

“Great to meet you,” Emily said, still speaking quickly. Without asking permission, she snatched up Derek’s wrist and showed off the glowing zeros to the ceiling. Before Derek could do more than grunt in disapproval, she pressed her own wrist over his and took in a sharp breath.

Derek didn’t make any noises because he didn’t feel anything. No tingling. No sparks. Nothing. It only took a short moment to discover Emily had gasped in anticipation and not out of any physical reaction either, because her gleaming smile dropped instantly into a frown.

“Dang it,” she muttered, releasing Derek’s arm. He pulled it back quickly and rubbed it against his side.

“What the hell was that?” Laura asked. Emily’s lips parted to answer, but Laura held up a finger to silence her. “No. Let me stop you there. The answer is inappropriate. Ms., I don’t know your job within the arena, but I’m going to have to request you give me the name of your supervisor and then step outside.”

“Wh-What?” And now Emily looked clammy. “N-No! Please, I’m just-“

“Desperate. I know you think it was harmless, but it’s our job to limit random variables like over-excited workers from the roster.” Laura was so professional and cold that Derek was almost surprised, but he’d seen her get this way before over equally small events that ended up being really good calls.

“No, I need this job. I’m sorry!” Emily squealed, and the color of her skin reminded Derek too intensely of Stiles in the hallway.

Before Laura could continue to scold and dismiss the girl, Derek stepped between them slightly. “Let this one go, Laura,” he said and stared intently into her eyes.

For a moment, they had a staring contest, a silent battle of wills, but in the end it was Laura who finally caved. Her lips pouted and then she groaned unhappily.

“Fine,” she said. Emily looked so relieved she may pass out… until Laura turned on her once more. This time when Laura spoke it was with a much gentler tone. “Understand what would happen if you, or someone like you, ran in the middle of a crowd and did that to Stiles. I won’t be dissuaded next time. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” And Emily actually bowed to Laura. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Zeroing out always messes with people’s hormones. Just get back to work and try to keep it together.” Laura waved the girl off, and Emily wasted no time in hurrying back the way she’d come.

They watched the girl until she was out of sight and then Laura turned to face Derek instead. He chose not to look at her, though. Past where Emily had disappeared, the sunlight was turning everyone and everything into silhouettes. Vaguely he wondered what he might have done if he’d noticed Emily first, walking by with those glowing zeroes on her wrist. Derek had no idea what gender his soul mate was, only that he was supposed to meet them soon. Would he have been tempted to call her over and do the same thing?

“You too. Get your shit together,” Laura grunted when she realized Derek wouldn’t be indulging a second staring contest. Instead, she reached up to tap her bun and check it wasn’t coming undone. “God, was I that bad when I zeroed? You better find your match soon or I’ll have to start guarding you too.”

“Well that would be something,” Derek conceded. “Or maybe I’ll just start wearing company wrist bands.”

A laugh started in Laura’s throat, but before she could comment, they heard something clatter and clang all over the floor behind them. Spinning around, they saw a cluster of expanding barricades had been knocked over – which was a feat considering they were pretty much designed to stay upright.

“Oh man, no one tell Scott I just did that. Better yet, don’t tell anyone.”

It was Stiles, hovering over the rolling pillars like he was trying to give them an air hug. His arms flailed slightly as he regained his normal footing and then he smiled sheepishly. Narrowing his eyes, Derek walked over and helped the singer stand all the barricades back up. Laura did too, but she was having trouble taking her eyes off Stiles.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, and he meant ‘out of bed’ but Stiles didn’t look ill in the slightest now. In fact, he looked in perfect health.

“Guess Ms. McCall didn’t warn you. I’m a spaz. You’re the new security leads, right? Sorry – you’ll be protecting me from myself more than anything else,” Stiles said, but he didn’t actually sound sorry. When everything was standing again, Stiles stretched his arms to the ceiling and grinned. “There. Nothing happened.”

He was dressed in jeans and a plain white shirt with a blue rim collar. If he bumped into Derek on the street, Derek probably wouldn’t name him as a twenty-year-old chart-topping singer. But the whole civilian get up looked good on him regardless.

Oh damn. At this rate, Derek would turn into Laura. He closed his eyes for a second and banished all ideas of admiring Stiles from his mind.

“Oh, so hey.” Stiles turned then and extended his hand to Laura. “I’m Stiles Stilinski.”

He was acting like the episode in the hall had never happened. His smile was beaming. After shaking Laura’s hand, he offered his to Derek, and his grip was strong. Even looking straight at Derek, he didn’t make any notion that he recognized Derek as the one who’d carried him to his room.

“Derek Hale,” Derek said automatically when their hands touched and felt his breath go tight.

“Nice to meet you.” Stiles broke their handshake halfway and fist bumped Derek before pulling away entirely. He pointed at Derek’s arm and gave an impressed look. “Zeroed, huh?”

“What?” Derek looked down and then felt silly for doing so. “Yeah. So?

“Good luck with that, buddy.” Stiles put one hand on his hip and waved the other in motion to all of Derek. “I hear that can be troublesome. I mean, you’ve got the looks, so no issues there, but you gotta work on that serial killer stare. Seriously, we just met. Did I do something wrong already?” He paused, looking up as he thought, and then he grinned. “Well besides the barriers.”

But Derek wasn’t listening to the analysis anymore. His forehead knit together when his eyes landed on Stiles’ wrists. General curiosity had drawn Derek’s eye at the mention of his own zero, and he really shouldn’t be surprised, but he still was.

Both of Stiles’s wrists were bound in white cloth from the base of his hand to three quarters up his forearm. As if that wasn’t enough, he wore a red wristband on his right arm and a black one on his left. Under Derek’s scrutiny, he subconsciously rubbed his fingers over the red one.

“Uh, sour puss?” Stiles tried again and Derek jerked his eyes back to look at Stiles’ face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Laura giving him an agitated look.

“Thanks,” Derek grunted. “I’ll work on that. In the meantime, maybe I’ll even find time to guard you.”

Lips parted, eyes narrowed, arms out, Stiles was both the picture of disbelieving shock innocence. Derek wished the awkward expression would at least make Stiles look less appealing, but apparently today was not his day for wishes.

“Okay, okay.” Stiles was shaking his head, but at least he was smiling while he did it. “Your brother’s kind of an ass, you know?” And now his smile was on Laura. She looked embarrassed, and Derek felt embarrassed… not over his actions, but over his jealousy that Stiles wanted to talk to Laura instead.

“Oh, trust me. I know,” Laura said and smacked Derek in the shoulder.

“Ow,” he complained, but neither other person paid him any mind.

“Sorry,” Laura said, but it was at Stiles. “I promise your shows will never be safer than under our watch. We’re fully dedicated to supporting you on this tour if you give us the chance.”

At that, Stiles shrugged, but he was still smiling. In fact, his incredulous look at Derek had been the only time the smile had left his face. “Well canvassing like police is a good sign. But the show tonight is the real test, right?” He took a step backwards and winked at Laura. “I wanted to officially meet you, but now I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you guys later.” He pointed at Derek’s wrist. “You’re gonna need that luck,” he said, and then he was jogging away down the hall.

Derek’s hand instinctively covered the numbers on his wrist as he glowered at Stiles’ back. But he didn’t get much time to think about how horrible that first introduction had gone because Laura was there to scold him out loud.

“Oh my god, you’re such an embarrassment,” she groaned and smacked his arm again. “Is it too late to give you up for adoption?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 2:
> 
> Derek witnesses his first Stiles Stilinski concert, but not everything goes to plan. In fact, things go spectacularly wrong, and it becomes apparent that someone is going to make this job extremely difficult, if they even land the job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek witnesses his first Stiles Stilinski concert, but not everything goes to plan. In fact, things go spectacularly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs Stiles sings this chapter are "Let's See How Far We've Come" and "Push" by Matchbox Twenty.

“Hello? Hello? Hello?”

The automated voice echoed over the crowd and they roared with life. Derek stood just off stage, sizing up anyone who might jump the barricade.

“Hello? Hello? Hello?” the voice said again, and this time the crowd shouted it simultaneously.

On stage, Stiles had his head down in front of the mic, but Derek could see his grin.

Then the music started. Heavy drums. Stiles bounced his head. Then the guitar hummed into life, and Stiles’ shoulders were going. He raised his head and leaned into the mic.

“I’m wakin’ up at the start of the end of the world, but it’s feeling just like every other mornin’ before. Now I wonder what my life is gonna mean if it’s gone.”

Derek glanced at his watch. The concert was half over. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to get the job or not for the full tour. On one hand, great business and he loved his job. On the other hand, he and Stiles hadn’t exactly gotten off to a great start.

Glancing at his wrist, Derek was tempted to grab a jacket despite the hot temperatures this close to the lights on stage. Light or no light, though, he could see the zeros.

Someone’s numbers were a joke sometimes, sure. People talked about it. There were entire shows dedicated to the numbers – whether fake dramas, reality tv where a bunch of zeros competed for one specific zero, science or health shows. They were a part of life, so of course people talked about them. But outside of bad reality TV? Saying something like that about a zero was not only insensitive, it was invasive. Stiles was barely out of being a teenager, but he should know better.

“I think it turned ten o’clock but I don’t really know, and I can’t remember carin’ for an hour or so. Started cryin’ and I couldn’t stop myself. I started runnin’, but there’s nowhere to run to.”

Everyone with zero was in a hurry to find their match, and statistically the only way someone wouldn’t find their match would be if their match died that month from unnatural causes. To suggest Derek needed luck to find or keep his match was absurd and rude. To suggest he might not find his match? Who did Stiles think he was? Just because he was famous and probably met a dozen potentials every day-

“I believe the world is burning to the ground! Oh well. I guess we’re gonna find out. Let’s see how far we’ve come! Let’s see how far we’ve come! Well I believe it all is coming to an end! Oh well. I guess we’re gonna pretend. Let’s see how far we’ve come! Let’s see how far we’ve come!”

The coverings on Stiles’ wrists. How would he ever know when he met the right person? Did he take them off ever? That morning when they saw him in the hall… he’s been wearing the wristbands but not the wrappings. How many months did Stiles have left? He met so many people. He must be close to zero by now.

But it would be rude to ask. Inexcusable to forcibly find out.

The song ended with a surge in the crowd and Derek tensed. He shouldn’t be thinking about this here. He was doing a job. He was protecting Stiles. He was making sure his men on the stage were doing their jobs while Laura managed the floor ops. So far, his earpiece was quiet. No major incidents… except for the one overly drunk guy in the back, but that had been taken care of.

“Thank you,” Stiles said, breathless, into the mic. He touched his own ear piece and picked up a towel from the stage with his other hand. The sweat was visible on his face and neck even from Derek’s distance, and he wiped it away for the time being. “You’re a fantastic first audience. I love you guys!”

The crowd cheered as the next song started up, it was slower than the last one, and Stiles chuckled. Derek wasn’t familiar with the song coming on, but Stiles found him in his spot just out of the public’s view and smirked.

“She said I don't know if I've ever been good enough. I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in.” Stiles looked back at the audience while he sang and gripped the mic in its stand. “And I don't know if I've ever been really loved by a hand that's touched me, and I feel like something's gonna give. And I'm a little bit angry. Well, this ain't over, no not here, not while I still need you around.”

Derek frowned. It sounded like a love song… but it wasn’t? It was a sour song. There were even some sour notes, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice.

“You don't owe me. We might change. Yeah, yeah we just might feel good.” And then Stiles’ eyes were back to staring off-stage at Derek, head bent so it wasn’t so obvious. “I wanna push you around, well I will, well I will. I wanna push you down, well I will, well I will.”

Narrowing his eyes, Derek focused not on the words but on the sour notes. They didn’t sound like any instrument Derek knew of. In fact, they sounded like straight metal.

Panic clenched in his stomach and his face must have look shocked because Stiles kept singing, but his face looked confused. Derek looked away a second later, stared up at the rigging with the lights. Were they moving?

Something small tumbled down and hit the ground with a sound too soft to hear over the music, but it was in Stiles’ view, and the singer trailed off with his song to look at it. It didn’t take the band long to notice and then the music died away too.

The sour notes didn’t stop, though, and now Derek could hear them clearly. It was the creaking of metal. Someone in the audience screamed and Derek ran out on stage just as the light above Stiles detached and fell from the rigging.

“Holy-,” was all Stiles got out before Derek plowed into him, and they tumbled five feet to Stiles’ left.

The light collided with a booming crash, and now the whole audience was shrieking. Pushing himself to his knees, Derek looked out into the crowd and saw Laura and her men herding the people out the doors. Good.

“Get up in the catwalk!” Derek ordered on the radio. “Lights don’t fall by themselves.”

Under him on the stage, Stiles groaned and shoved a hand into Derek’s stomach. “Shit,” he said, finishing his previous statement.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked, moving off and snatching Stiles’ wrist to pull to his feet.

“I’m fine. What the hell?” When Stiles regained his footing, he looked over where the mic stand had been crushed by the light. “Oh my god.”

“Come on. We need to get you out of the area,” Derek said and pulled Stiles away from the wreckage. He didn’t release Stiles’ arm until they were all the way back in Stiles’ room.  
\-- -- -- -- --

Although Stiles looked a little worse for wear, Derek didn’t stay with him. He escorted the singer to his room and checked every possible hiding place inside. The room was neat – barely anything had been taken out of bags and most of it had already been repacked for their exit that night – so he was able to scan for dangers rather quickly.

“Stay here. I’ll be back after we clear the building,” he ordered, heading back out. Pushing his walkie, he called for someone to come watch Stiles’ door. “Jordan’s going to come keep an eye on you,” he said after he got an answer. “He’ll check on you when he gets here, but then he’s going to stay outside.”

“Are you serious? That is just-That is the worst idea-,” Stiles stammered out and grabbed Derek by the shoulder to stop him from leaving. “You’re acting like the building’s gonna blow up. Oh my God! Is the building gonna blow up?”

“I don’t know.” Derek grunted and pulled Stiles’ hand off.

“And Scott and Mom?” Stiles asked, his fingers twitching like he wanted to grab Derek again.

“I’m sure there’s a detail on them. I’ll call to check in a minute, but I need you to stay here.” Derek tried to impress the seriousness of his request by giving Stiles the most intense stare he could manage. “I can’t go check everything if I think you’re running around somewhere trying to play hero. I need you safe. Understand?”

“Understand?” Stiles asked, and his voice seemed half-hysteric.

Derek raised a finger and pointed it at the singer, an inch away from poking him in the nose. “Stay here while we check things out. Do. Not. Go. Anywhere.”

And then he left before Stiles could get hold of him again. Jordan was there in seconds, and then Derek hurried off to check the building. Generally speaking, protocol demanded they evacuate Stiles and the team entirely, but since Derek was relatively positive this was an attack and not a coincidence, he didn’t want to risk letting Stiles wander around.

“Is Stiles safe?” Laura asked over the radio.

“Jordan’s got him. He’s good. The McCalls?” Derek asked back.

“On the bus. It’s been checked. All clear,” Laura reported.

“And the stage? Find anything? Anyone?” 

The theater was cleared of guests by the time he got back out there and multiple voices rang back to him on the radio to clarify the areas that had been checked for saboteurs. The catwalk, the hallways backstage, the immediate backstage, all closets, and the lobby were clear. So far it sounded as if their wannabe assassin had long since fled, but Derek wanted to be sure.

They searched for the better part of an hour before they decided the building was safe. No assassins in hiding. No mysterious packages left behind. The only sign of anything was the odd scratches by the lock for the balcony window.

“Laura, balcony window,” Derek called over the radio.

By the time she got up to him, Derek had his phone out and had taken several pictures of the damage. “What the hell?” she asked and bent down to get a closer look.

“Appears that someone pried it open from the outside, taking a few chunks of the paint with them.” Derek sent the photos to his mother and then slid his phone into his pocket.

For a second, Laura was silent, and then she sighed. “You just sent those to Mom, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah. So?”

“Man, I was really hoping to do this without her help,” Laura said and stood back up. Pushing her hair over her shoulder, she surveyed the area around the window and then crossed her arms. “Well at least it was a quick in and out deal. And if they keep us, we’ll be sure to put details on every possible entrance, no matter how out of reach.”

Derek tried to give her a disbelieving look, eyebrows raised and head tilted down, but she wasn’t looking at him. In fact, she purposely spun the long way around to make her exit just to avoid seeing his face. Fine, so Derek couldn’t brag right now, but he’d get her later for it. There was no denying her pride must be hurt after Derek pointed out this window as a safety issue and she chose to ignore it. It was her call, but Derek wasn’t gonna be a jerk about it and rub it in her face… much.

At least this time the oversight hadn’t resulted in someone losing their life.

The first thing they did after clearing the building was head to the tour bus. The man standing watch out front waved them down upon arrival and assured them that no one had attempted to come near and that the bus had also been checked and cleared of damages or suspicious items.

Inside the bus, Scott and his mother were close together, but Scott jumped up as soon as they came into view up the stairs.

“Stiles?” he asked.

“Safe with a guard. We were about to go grab him. But we wanted to debrief you first,” Laura said, stopping Scott from pushing past her. “The light was tampered with. This wasn’t just an accident, Ms. McCall. Someone targeted Stiles tonight.”

“I thought you did a sweep of the building before the show started,” Melissa said, standing as well, hands on her hips and posture distressed.

“We did. That’s what worries us. If you keep our services, we fully intend to double the staff for all remaining shows. An incident won’t happen again,” the older Hale promised.

In front of her, Scott was bouncing anxiously. Derek knit his brow, wondering about the jitters in the guy who usually seemed so calm.

“We think they got in through the upper windows,” Derek explained. “They were locked when the show began, but someone must have broken in during the opening acts. There were scratch marks by the lock. Mr. McCall, are you alright?”

“No. Stress makes it worse,” Scott whined and motioned to the door. “I need to get Stiles.”

“Makes what worse?” Laura asked, adopting the inherited Hale crease in her forehead.

But Derek could picture it – Stiles pale and sweaty and acting like he’d been shot. He locked eyes with Scott and then gently moved Laura out of the path. Scott’s face was five times relieved as he nodded to Derek and then hurried off the bus. Almost immediately, Melissa rubbed her hands together and cleared her throat.

“I’m just- Well, I think this was a great first run aaaand I’ll definitely count saving his life in your favor when Stiles and I discuss your contract,” she said, obviously trying to keep the situation calm and normal.

“Thank you,” Laura said, and Derek turned and left. He could hear her call after him and then subsequently apologize to Ms. McCall about his behavior, and he really wished she’d stop doing that, but at that moment he didn’t have time to scold her.

Stress made it worse? Did Scott mean Stiles’ condition? Had Derek accidentally left Stiles somewhere with a medical condition flaring up? Damn it. Now they definitely wouldn’t get the job. Save his life just to leave him in pain?

Scott got to the room a minute before Derek, but Jordan was just conceding to letting him pass when Derek rounded the corner. Usually the rule was not to let anyone in until Derek or Laura said so, but Jordan probably recognized Scott from the mini-orientation that’d had earlier, so Derek wouldn’t hold it against him. When he saw Derek, he shrugged. Stiles must not have made much of a fuss in the last hour if his guard was that calm.

The door opened and Stiles leaned on the doorframe, upper forearm in a death grip.

“Next time, I’ll drop a stage light on you,” he said, staring over Scott’s shoulder at Derek.

“Oh he’s fine,” Derek grunted. “He’s still sarcastic.”

“We’ll see how sarcastic it is when you’re squished to death,” Stiles shot back.

Scott put on hand on Stiles’ shoulder and drew away the singer’s attention before Derek could make a comeback. The two young men stared intently at each other for a long moment before Scott murmured, “Be honest. How bad is it?”

Stiles pressed his lips together, but didn’t get a chance to answer. Kira Yukimura came trotting down the hall, messenger bag on her shoulder. Her boots didn’t grip the tile floor, but she still managed to slide into position by Stiles as though she’d planned it.

“Wh-Whoa. Sorry. Um, here.” And she pulled a medicine case from the bag. “Dad thought you, uh… might need this.” But while she was handing the pills to Stiles, her eyes were on Scott.

“Thanks, Kira. But you don’t need to use me as an excuse to come see Scott,” Stiles said, popping the case open. While Kira and Scott flubbed for an answer, Stiles just smirked and dry-swallowed a much smaller pill than last time. Then he motioned to Derek with the case. “Say – were you worried about me?”

“No,” Derek shot back a bit too fast.

“That’s right,” Stiles said, and though he was smiling, Derek was sure there was a hidden threat there. “Cause there’s nothing to worry about, alright? I’m safe and healthy as a horse.”

A dying horse, Derek thought, but kept his mouth shut. Why was Stiles so determined that no one know he was ill? What the hell was wrong with him?  
\-- -- -- --

The tour bus carted them all back to a hotel for the night, and they posted a man outside of Stiles’ room for extra safety. Between the two of them, Derek and Laura weren’t sure if they’d have a job in the morning, so sleep was little rough. On the one hand, Derek had saved Stiles from being crushed. On the other, someone had slipped in undetected and tried to kill him. Great work. Really stellar.

The Argents would probably have a party when they heard the news.

“The Argents will never let us live this down!” a sour voice shouted over the speaker of Laura’s phone for all to hear. “How could you let this happen?!”

Derek winced and tried to glare at the same time, despite the person being unable to see him. Laura gave him an apologetic look and then pressed her lips together.

“Now, now, Peter. Calm yourself. The Argents have had worse, and they know it,” their mother’s calming voice spoke, instantly easing some of the tense out of both siblings’ backs. “The important thing is that Derek saved Stiles. That will count for more in the long run, I’m sure of it.”

“Talia, how can you say that? We’ve been fired for less!” Peter continued, and Derek could just see him pacing and throwing his arms dramatically like the metrosexual drama queen he was.

“You’ve been fired for less,” Talia corrected, and Laura had to cover her mouth to block out her laugh. “Derek and Laura can handle this. And I spoke with the manager. She seems very agreeable. I have no doubt that they can all find a way to work together.”

“You’re too easy on them,” Peter growled and then they heard a distant door slamming shut.

After a moment of silence, mostly caused by the source of most of the noise no longer being present, Laura decided to speak. “You really think we can still salvage things?”

“Darling, I believe you two can do anything. I would not have sent you there if I didn’t.” There was a lightness to her voice, as though she could see their souls even across a phone call.

No one fully believed in psychics, although plenty of people claimed to be one. Everyone knew about the aura-sphere and it was common knowledge that the aura-sphere effected everyone’s lives, but to be psychic? That was ridiculous. Unless you were Talia Hale. The woman never claimed abilities or powers, but she had skills… magical or not. Their mother could read people with uncanny accuracy and was considered wise even by people many years older than her. Even now, so far away from her, Derek could feel the charge in her deep breathing, could tell she knew something beyond explanation.

“I think you two should get some sleep,” Talia finally said. “The morning will bring good news. Don’t worry yourselves. You’ve done a wonderful job.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Laura answered and then paused with her finger over the ‘End Call’ button. Knitting her brow, she looked at Derek.

He realized a moment too late what she wanted. “Thanks, Mom,” he echoed, and Laura’s expression was exasperated.

“Anytime. Goodnight.”

And they hung up. The siblings didn’t talk afterward, not even to say their own goodnights. Instead, they just settled in to bed and turned out the lights and hoped their mother was right… as she often was.

In the morning, the siblings packed their bags and headed to meet the crew in the lobby. Stiles was sitting in a chair sideways, legs hanging over the arm and head back like he wanted to still be sleeping. Scott was saying something to him that made him snort and kept him from nodding off, and it was curious why Stiles being conscious was even necessary. It wasn’t like he had a gig today.

“Morning,” Ms. McCall greeted when she saw them, her smile welcoming and warm. “We discussed your performance last night at the concert and have come to a decision.”

“We do apologize for our lapse,” Laura began, but Ms. McCall held up a hand to politely quiet her.

“We’ve decided to hire you for the length of the tour,” she said and Laura’s face became the sun.

“Really? Oh, thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret it.” And the two women shook hands. There would be an official contract to sign and they’d have to fax a copy to the home office, but a handshake was almost as good at the start.

Derek was confused though. Stiles had seemed genuinely upset with him the night before. “Why?” he asked.

Ms. McCall shrugged while Laura shot him a look that told him to stop questioning their second chance. “Stiles vouched for you,” she said, motioning at the two boys a few feet away.

It seemed that, despite Scott’s efforts, Stiles had still managed to nod off. Scott was poking him in the face and trying to rouse him, but Stiles just turned his head away and grumbled. It didn’t make a lot of sense to Derek. Sure Derek had tackled Stiles out of the way of death, but Derek was also the two time witness to whatever was wrong with the younger man, and that didn’t appear to sit well with him.

So why keep Derek around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 3:
> 
> Derek talks with Jordan Parrish, a man with no numbers or marks on his wrists, and has a run in with Stiles' liaison, Scott. And despite conflicting schedules, Derek and Stiles manage to have a decent conversation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek talks with Jordan Parrish, a man with no numbers or marks on his wrists, and has a run in with Stiles' liaison, Scott. And despite conflicting schedules, Derek and Stiles manage to have a decent conversation.

Navigating the aura-sphere’s cryptic countdown would be easier if Derek had a more personable job. Laura was the one who went out and organized their crew, coordinated with each venue’s local muscle, and talked to people on the phone. Derek was the one who would walk the entire venue three times to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and then watched every member of the sounds, light, and stage crew to make sure no one was doing something potentially hazardous… like unscrewing stage lights.

 

Imitating Stiles, Derek now wore a black and red wrist band over his numbers. Between the singer’s insensitive words and Emily’s intrusive groping of his arm, Derek wasn’t taking any more chances. If he met someone in the next few days and it seemed like they may be the one, then he’d take the wristband off and they could touch their wrists together and get the official okay from the aura-sphere and all that jazz. But until then, the wristband was staying on.

 

Maybe Stiles was smarter than Derek initially gave him credit for.

 

Rubbing his fingers over the unfamiliar fabric, Derek watched as the stage crew set up and the sound crew did a sound check. If any of this tour’s crew were his One, he hadn’t noticed yet. They were all nice, he supposed, but since he was nothing if not an anti-social butterfly, it was hard to get a true feel for anyone, and no one was making an effort to talk to him either.

 

“Boo,” someone said right by his ear, and it sounded like a snap in the quiet air around Derek.

 

Spinning his head around, he found himself face to face with his client, who looked extremely pleased with himself for startling Derek.

 

“Stiles,” Derek scolded and dropped his wrist.

 

“Did I scare you?” Stiles asked and shifted the hood on his jacket so it hung more over his face. “You didn’t even notice me coming up, did you? I totally got you.”

 

“Stiles, I have a job to do,” Derek said and looked back at the crew. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your meet and greet?”

 

In response, Stiles groaned. “Damn, you’re no fun. I came here to escape my tour manager, not find a second one.” He crossed his arms and stood beside Derek, surveying the arena and stage from their spot in the bleachers. “Well… no falling lights this time, right?”

 

“Your stage has no lights today. Just the sun. But hey, your stage is built from scratch. There’s always the chance that it’ll collapse beneath you, so don’t worry,” Derek answered and then knit his brow tightly together when he realized he was joking with someone.

 

“Awesome. And maybe this time I’ll get, like, a cool bruising or a broken ankle. Then my fans will think I’m badass for surviving.” And Stiles was joking back. Derek bit his cheek. This was not a typical occurrence in his life. How long could he keep this up?

 

“What, no injuries to show off from me tackling you to the ground?” he asked and turned his head just enough to get Stiles in view so Stiles could see him smirking.

 

A dramatic, disappointed sigh escaped Stiles’ lips and he shrugged. “Gosh, I wish. All I got was a skinned elbow and look” – he held up his elbow for inspection and it was a healed, fresh pink – “no proof. Ms. McCall put Neosporin on it and now it’s like it never happened. Didn’t even go to the hospital.”

 

“Such a disappointment,” Derek drawled.

 

Stiles nodded. “Absolutely. Next time you save my life, I expect better from you.”

 

“I’ll do my best.”

 

And now Stiles was full-on grinning at him, like this kind of banter was completely normal. And maybe between Stiles and Scott it was, but it wasn’t normal for Derek. Despite this, he found himself smiling back. It was nothing beaming like Stiles’, but it was there, toying with his lips and sending a warm feeling to his stomach, so it counted nonetheless.

 

Both their phones went off at the same time and broke the moment.

 

Derek’s phone showed a text from Laura, but Stiles actually had a phone call. From the expression he made, Derek guessed it was Ms. McCall.

 

“Oh, hey, Mom,” Stiles greeted and pushed his hood down. “What? No. I’m totally ready. I was just stopping by the stage to thank Derek for saving my life…. Yeah, yeah. I’m heading over right now. Yep. Walking as we speak. Uh-huh. See you in a second.”

 

Judging by Stiles’ expression and muttered “Shut up,” Derek’s face must look exactly how he felt – oddly amused and not surprised at all. Stiles was a smooth little liar and also a procrastinator. Sort of the opposite of Derek – who was kind of a terrible liar and had a work ethic that refused to let him not do his job.

 

“Need to head out?” Derek asked.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

 

“Want me to walk you out?” And Derek hadn’t even checked his text yet, but it could wait.

 

Without a second of hesitation, Stiles said, “Nah,” and shook his head. “I can make my own way. Besides, we’re ending on a good note here. If you walk with me, we still have time to start getting on each other’s nerves.”

 

“Valid point,” Derek conceded, despite how it hurt his pride. Someone relating Derek to a bad conversation or expression was not something to be proud of, and honestly he hated to even admit that he’d caused such a thing. His mother was always talking about putting aside your personal feelings while working, and yet Derek had pretty much painted every interaction since arriving with all his hormonal emotions… which were mostly negative.

 

Stiles smiled at him and held his hand up in a wave as he turned away. “I’ll catch you later, sour puss.”

 

And then he was trotting down the steps and out of sight. After he was gone for a full minute, Derek mentally cursed. He’d meant to ask Stiles why exactly he’d decided to let them stay on as his bodyguards.

 

When he checked his text, Laura was telling him Stiles was late and asking if Derek had seen him. Sighing, Derek sent back ‘No’ and put his phone away.

\-- -- -- --

 

A signing event wasn’t a place Derek needed or wanted to be, but Laura had volunteered to go. Every half hour, she sent him a text with an update on the event, and that was cool… if he cared about what she was sending. A third of her messages were job related. The rest, not so much.

 

Between

 

‘Two ppl just bumped into each other in line & found out they’re soulmates. Hurray for One!’

 

And

 

‘Lot of Ones here today. Expected more Zeros hoping Stiles was their One. Should I be this disappointed?’

 

Derek may as well have been at the event instead of overseeing set-up. Around two p.m., Derek’s stomach started to growl, but he refused to leave the area unsupervised. It was probably a sad sign that one of his more senior employees popped up right at that time to relieve him.

 

“Get out of here, Derek. You need to eat or you’ll be unfocused,” Jordan Parrish ordered as he came to stand by Derek.

 

Parrish had come to work for them after doing a stint on the elder Stilinski’s tour. He skillfully name dropped the rock star in his resume and interview with the Hale company, and it did a lot to bolster his chances despite the ‘stint’ being a one-time gig and not a full contract run. He’d been a local back then, but now he was with a company, now he went where the client went.

 

That was five years ago. And he’d been a huge change for everything at the heart of the Hale family.

 

“Hey, Jordan. How much aura-sphere do you think you’ve got in you?” Derek asked and glanced down at the man’s wrist. Instead of numbers, plain skin stared back. There were no marks at all.

 

At the question, Jordan looked down at his wrist momentarily as well. Then he shrugged. “Not sure. I’m sure there’s still plenty, even though the numbers are gone. We both know it’s possible for them to come back on, like some sick light bulb, so the energy must still be there. But I don’t really think about it a lot. Why?”

 

Now Derek shrugged – a quick roll of his shoulders. “You verge on that psychic area sometimes – like my mother.”

 

Jordan chuckled and shook his head. “Because I know you’d starve yourself if someone didn’t come relieve you of duty?” he asked and clapped Derek on the shoulder. “I’m not psychic. And neither is Talia. We’re both just… empathetic. Now go eat.”

 

A gruff grunt was all Derek could respond with. His mind was on Jordan’s wrist. When you finally met ‘The One’, your wrist lit up like a fluorescent bulb all over and people reported warm, tingling sensations all over their bodies. Then, in an unexplainable phenomenon, your wrist went blank. No more numbers. No more countdowns. Nothing.

 

Except when it didn’t.

 

Talia Hale was a good example of this. Married happily to The One for twenty-five years, her wrist blank and perfect. Then the car accident happened. Now Talia Hale’s wrist was alight once more. Typically when a loved one dies, the one left behind gets a new count down. Usually it starts at zero, because someone alive long enough to see their first love die has typically already met the person who’s aura matches up next-best with theirs. But for some, the countdown is back in the double digits, and middle-aged people find that jolt of youth again as they wonder and worry over their futures.

 

For Talia Hale, things were a little different. Her light came back on, but there was no number in place. Instead, two small dashes decorated her wrist, like a stop watch that hadn’t been set. Uncle Peter called in the family doctor when the lights appeared two days after Dad’s death, but he seemed displeased with their evaluation.

 

Sometimes when a person loses their first love, they no longer require or desire someone new to fill that hole, and sheer strength of will keeps the clock from counting. Talia had a large family and a close-knit family-like feel in her company. She had all the ‘soul mates’ anyone could want, according to her, and she had decided long ago that, no matter what, her first true love would be her only one.

 

Derek could understand that. But he couldn’t help but wonder about Jordan. What would the man do if his girlfriend died in an accident like Derek’s father? If those lights came back on before the police could call, if they came back on a week later, what would they do? Would they choose to move on and find their next person, or would they become eternal dashes, like his mother?

 

And what about Derek? What if his numbers started a new countdown before he found his one? Would he grieve someone he’d never met? And what about his second soul mate? Would their relationship be tainted by the fact that Derek had never met his first?

 

Shaking his head, Derek focused on filling up his plate at the food tent set up just outside the arena for the crew. There was no sense in wondering about these things. Jordan and his girlfriend were both healthy and safe, and Derek still had eighteen days to find his soul mate. Any ‘what-if’ scenarios were unnecessary stress and definitely unnecessary distractions from work.

 

‘OMG Stiles just dumped caramel frap all over his shirt,’ Laura texted.

 

‘omg can you tell how interested I am?’ Derek texted back.

 

‘Supremely,’ Laura answered almost too fast to be comical.

 

And Derek almost made a comment about her preoccupation with liveblogging the event instead of being a security guard, but then someone sat down at the table with him. With a quick glance around, Derek saw that, of the four tables set up, only two were occupied. Derek was one of the occupiers, but there were plenty of other seats around.

 

His new lunchtime cohort sighed instead of greeted him and then stabbed his fork into the tender meat of the ham laid out on his plate.

 

“Um,” Derek began and then stopped, unsure how to continue. When he got no response, he tried again. “Shouldn’t you be at the signing?”

 

Scott McCall’s face screamed innocence when he finally focused on Derek, but Derek wasn’t so sure about its validity. Scott was Stiles’ assistant tour manager. If not at the signing, surely he had someone fancy to have lunch with at least.

 

“Not really,” Scott said and swallowed his food. “I’m his liaison with the crew, not the public. Besides, we’re friends. I’m not his shadow.”

 

And then they ate in silence. In his chest, Derek’s heart hammered with anxiety. He really needed to work on small talk with people, because he was far too nervous about messing up this conversation. Scott appeared perfectly at ease, which should make things easier, but it kinda made Derek annoyed instead.

 

“Did you need something?” he asked when he finished all but the mashed potatoes on his plate.

 

“No. You just looked lonely.” And Scott shoved a heaping spoonful of his own potatoes into his mouth. Derek grimaced and Scott tried not to laugh before he swallowed. “Listen, dude. Stiles is cool, alright? And he noticed you don’t hang out with anyone, so he asked me to make sure you got your daily dosage of human interaction.”

 

“How kind of him,” Derek grunted out, and really he supposed he should be grateful that someone cared about that, but at the same time he felt insulted – like Stiles didn’t think Derek could handle his own social life. “But you don’t have to. I’m fine.”

 

“I can see that.”

 

Derek huffed and focused on his potatoes, which he pushed around his plate a bit before regrouping them into one spot and then repeating the process before finally deciding to eat them. When he looked up, Scott was staring at him, but the younger man quickly looked away when he got caught.

 

“What?” Derek snapped.

 

“Nothin.” But under Derek’s glare, Scott couldn’t hold up. “Why are you a security guard? Couldn’t you be like… a model or an actor or anything?”

 

“My family is all in security, like the Argents. It’s what we do, and we all happen to like doing it,” Derek said, setting down his spoon on his empty plate.

 

“Alright, that’s cool, I guess. Family business. I mean, I guess that’s part of the reason I started doing this too. My mom loves her job and I’ve been on sets and stages and tour buses most of my life, so it kind of soaked in. I was thinking of branching off into being a producer though. Know what I mean?”

 

“If you’re suggesting I think outside the box and find new employment, you don’t have to be cryptic about it. You can just ask me to leave.” He stood then, taking his plate with him to the trash, and Scott followed immediately after him.

 

“No, that’s not what I was saying. I was just saying I love my job but I have other interests. It was a simple conversation.” And he slipped between Derek and the trash to throw his stuff away first.

 

“You want to know my interests? Fine. I’ll tell you if you move,” Derek agreed and Scott had never moved so quickly. Derek took his time throwing out his plate, partially to make Scott wait and partially to give himself time to think about the answer. “I like dogs – all kinds, and when I was five, I wanted to own a dog breeding business,” he said finally. “Enough?”

 

“For now, I guess.” And Scott shrugged before walking off with a slight bounce in his step. His odd glee over the conversation made Derek uneasy, but there was nothing much he could do about it, especially since he had no proof it had any malicious meaning.

 

Suddenly Derek had an awful, terrible thought. His mother gave him this job to make him socialize. Oh, that was evil. It was positively Peter of her, and he would not forgive her. Today.

\-- -- -- --

 

A few hours before dinner, Laura, Stiles, and the rest of the crew returned from the signing. Stiles regaled them with facts about the length of the line and how it zigzagged through the store, went out the door, and disappeared out of sight of the glass storefront, and about the people he met and things he signed.

 

“I signed a lot of pictures and CDs and paraphernalia but three girls and a guy asked me to sign body parts and, oh my sweet baby Jesus, there was a guy who tried to start up a biblical discussion with me right there at the table, like there weren’t fifty billion people waiting in line. And another guy told me he loved me but that it was because the government was using my music to brainwash people. Now he was funny.”

 

And the stories went on and on until dinner. Most people listening had been present and jumped in to aid the stories when it was warranted, but mostly Stiles needed no encouragement or support. Of those who weren’t at the signing but were at story time, there were three and one of them was Derek. He leaned against a wall as Stiles was given new clothes to change into, vanished behind a changing wall, walked out in casual clothes, and was then prepped for dinner. But no matter how many times he was interrupted for news about work or to be asked a question about something unrelated, Stiles kept going back to the signing event when he was allowed to talk freely once more.

 

Odd to say, but Derek found it slightly endearing and definitely comical.

 

When he and Laura retired to their room for the night, she sighed dramatically and dropped her jacket over a chair.

 

“You know how they say you should never meet your idols?” she asked, slumping into the squeaky fabric.

 

“What? Tired of Stiles already?” Derek replied, sitting on his bed and removing his shoes. Honestly, he was surprised. It usually took more for Laura to stop liking something.

 

“No.” But she sighed. “He’s still great. He’s fun and he’s funny and he’s so talented. But Derek, he talks SO much. And I blame my low tolerance for it on you. You’re virtual muteness has ruined me.”

 

“Nope. Can’t blame me. I’m not mute around you,” Derek reminded and picked up the room service menu.

 

Leaning forward and balancing her chin in her hand, Laura surveyed him. “Yeah, but you sure don’t talk half as much as Stiles, or anyone else for that matter. It’s a good thing your soul mate likes the strong, silent type.”

 

It was the first time Laura had ever brought up the subject of Derek’s timer. Usually she waited for him to say something, or she reacted to him reacting to his numbers. The odd broach in their rules of conversation drew Derek’s attention out of the menu and over to his sister.

 

“What?” he asked smartly.

 

Her shoulders rolled in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess seeing all those fans today who weren’t there to make Stiles fall in love with them… and even those who were… it made me wonder about you and how long it’ll be before you figure out who’s aura matches yours. I mean, I just want you to be happy, you know? You smile and talk more when you’re happy, and you’ve been so quiet since-“

 

She cut herself off, and Derek gave her a steady stare, daring her to continue but also asking her not to.

 

Taking a deep breath, she continued. “All I’m saying is that even without a true love, you still found happiness once, and I’m just excited for you to find it again… and for forever this time.”

 

“Thanks, Laura,” Derek said, and he meant it for everything she left unsaid as well as for all her well wishes spoken out loud.

 

And as he drifted off to sleep that night, he expected to think about the past, but instead he thought of Stiles and dreamt about asking the singer to sign his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 4:
> 
> There’s a party thrown in honor of the new tour and everyone’s there – major artists like Bono and John Stilinski, and plenty of press. Derek is meant to be looking for future work, but everywhere he looks, he sees something that reminds him of soul mates. Unsurprisingly, Stiles and he end up disagreeing, but maybe the evening isn’t a total loss. Derek thinks he may have a clue to who his soul mate is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a party thrown in honor of the new tour and everyone’s there – major artists like Bono and John Stilinski, and plenty of press. Derek is meant to be looking for future work, but everywhere he looks, he sees something that reminds him of soul mates. Unsurprisingly, Stiles and he end up disagreeing, but maybe the evening isn’t a total loss. Derek thinks he may have a clue to who his soul mate is.

Soul mate counters were not monogamy based spiritually devices. Very early on in the study of the aura-sphere, scientists and theorists and astrologers all noticed the way the lights came back on after the death of a loved one. This meant, obviously, that one person’s soul was not linked to just one other person’s soul. While the initial soul mate was special and absolute, it was entirely possible to find love with a secondary love interest.

 

Whether that second person was an old friend, a new coworker, someone you bumped into in a fast food restaurant – the point was that it was entirely possible to fall in love without the requirement of being first time soul mates.

 

While the more conservative people worried about this knowledge giving freedom for soul mate couples to cheat on one another, that was really only part of the possibilities that started being discussed. While having potential secondary soul mates did cause some relationship tension between couples, the identifiable rate of adultery in soul mate couples was less than ten percent. The more interesting point was in polyamory.

 

The question posed was this: If your soul has more than one soul it matches up with, then those multiple other souls must also match up. So what’s to stop the three or more of you from living perfectly happy, cohabitating lives?

 

Derek had personally never had to face this question. He was not a polyamorous person, and while he knew no polyamorous people, he also saw no flaw in the logic of that base question. Despite having no issues with polyamory, Derek didn’t see it for himself. He wanted to find one person to dedicate himself to.

 

And he hoped to find that person during the first week of the concert tour. Sure the first concert hadn’t been very promising – what with Stiles and Emily – and yeah the outdoor concert hadn’t provided him any potential mates either, but this next bit? Even as antisocial as he was, Derek couldn’t possibly not meet new people at this next event.

 

A party.

 

Not just any party. It was a backers party. Not only would Stiles and his management team be there, but so would other performers and sponsors and promoters. Derek and Laura were invited – as well as Laura’s plus one, Duke – to represent Hale Securities and perhaps win over new clientele.

 

So while Derek didn’t like making small talk and being chatty, he knew very well how to impress people when the time called for it, and he could fake a polite conversation just fine. Plus he’d have Laura on his side, so what could go wrong?

 

The answer was actually Stiles, which really confused Derek beyond anything the singer had already done.

 

Derek was in a tuxedo for the black tie event, but it appeared the dress code was flexible for the wealthy and famous. Bono, for instance, showed up in a pale peach cowboy hat, and while he was otherwise wearing all black, it was no suit and tie. Stiles was similar. He wore tight black jeans, a snug fit black undershirt and a black leather jacket. Watching him run around hugging people and smiling and laughing and kneeling down to greet someone’s kid was…. Well Derek downed two glasses of champagne before Laura caught him in the act and told the wait staff not to provide him any further drinks.

 

“What is wrong with you?” she scolded afterward and slapped him on the shoulder. “We’re here on business.”

 

“I know. I don’t know what got in to me,” Derek apologized and rubbed his hands together.

 

He shouldn’t even be noticing Stiles. The siblings were here to scope out future assignments, not focusing on the one they already had. There were other units of Hale Securities guarding the event, but those did not include Laura or Derek Hale. And even without business in the way, Derek really shouldn’t be noticing Stiles anyway. The brat was barely an adult and while Derek wasn’t an old man, there was almost ten years between them in age. Not to mention they didn’t get along… unless they cut conversations in half.

 

“Oh, but he’s so attractive, isn’t he?” Laura swooned, and Derek did his best not to physically react.

 

It sounded like she was referring to his thoughts, but when Derek followed her gaze he found she was not looking at Stiles Stilinski. She was looking at the man who’d just walked in – the very famous John Stilinski.

 

“Sure, if you like older guys,” Duke remarked on her other side, and smirked down at her. He was about a foot taller, and Laura often remarked that it was one of the things she loved about him.

 

“Oh you know I’m just window shopping. I have no money to go to market. I spent all of it on you,” Laura said, and it was quite possibly the cheesiest thing Derek had ever heard her say. But it worked for Duke. They were smiling at each other and then kissing and then Derek had to excuse himself to escape.

 

It probably wouldn’t have been as hard to stomach if Duke had been concerned or worried, but he was being flirty. If he was actually concerned with her liking older men then it would be different, but Laura was thirty and Deucalion was forty-two, so her interest in older men was entirely in the man’s favor. Their teasing and flirty smiles were going to give him a cavity.

 

Derek was twenty-eight, and age didn’t bother him at all. Let Laura date whoever she wanted. Still, Derek was pretty sure his soul mate would end up being less than twelve years in age difference, and for that he was grateful.

 

By the snack table, Derek felt safe enough to people watch and find a target client. John Stilinski had spotted his son and the two were exclaiming greetings and hugging and being a general distraction. The elder Stilinski was dressed more appropriate to the style of the party, in a fashionable, if slightly old fashioned, tuxedo.

 

Stiles was so excited that he forgot he was holding a soda and promptly dropped it as he threw his arms around his father. The can hit the ground standing, but the drink still splattered out and onto both singers’ pants. They didn’t seem to care though. They just laughed about it.

 

“They really light up a room, huh?” a female voice asked and Derek turned his face away from the two, looking instead at Melissa McCall.

 

“You could call it that,” he agreed half-assed-ly and she gently slapped his shoulder as she laughed.

 

“Of course you would be the one to try and pretend,” she said. “I’ve seen you watching them, watching Stiles.” Derek felt his shoulders tense, and from Melissa’s expression she saw the change. “I’m not here to reprimand you, so you can lose the tension, but I did come to warn you. The Stilinskis are a fantastic family. They’re such nice people, and anyone with them for the long run is extremely lucky… but they are hard to get near. Since the death of his wife, Claudia, John’s been… I guess you could say distant. They look close now, but a few years ago, Stiles couldn’t be in the same room with his father, and… some other things were happening around the same time, things I’m not at liberty to explain.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Derek asked, squinting at the happy father-son pair. He couldn’t imagine them ever being estranged, not even for a week.

 

“Because I’ve watched Stiles push people away for less than the bickering you two do. Oh yeah, I know about it. Stiles told me all about your conversations. And because I don’t want you to get excited if he doesn’t push you away. We’ve been burned before.” Melissa frowned and crossed her arms, as if she didn’t like the topic or having to bring it up. Ultimately, her expression was considering, and Derek felt it was half an apology for her words and half a sign that she trusted him enough to even have said them.

 

“You don’t have to worry, Ms. McCall. I’m just doing my job. I don’t intend to get any closer to Stiles than I have to.” Professionalism was a matter of pride in the Hale Family… although less so with Talia, so it was interesting that everyone else had picked it up. Talia didn’t need professionalism to get people on her side.

 

“Please. Call me-“

 

“Melissa?” The voice was excited as well as unsure, and the unique combination drew both of their attentions.

 

John Stilinski was a few feet away, hesitating on the edge of some invisible barrier around Derek and Melissa… something Derek just noticed no one was broaching. When had they become so alone at the snack table?

 

Looking back at Melissa, Derek expected her to be giving him a dismissing look, ending their conversation and sending him away, but instead he found her eyes solely on John Stilinski. Her smile kept faltering between varying levels of happy and her hand came up to toy with a necklace hanging there.

 

“John,” she started and then paused to swallow. “It’s… Well it’s good to see you. Been awhile.”

 

“Yeah. Like, what, four months?” he asked and shuffled forward into their bubble. “How, um, how have you been?”

 

“Good,” Melissa answered too quickly and laughed nervously. “Really, really good. And you? How was your tour in Europe?”

 

The small talk and goo goo eyes were sending shivers down Derek’s spine in equal measure and he excused himself to find a new solitude. First Laura and Duke and then John Stilinski and Melissa McCall- Were those two even soul mates? Derek hadn’t checked their wrists, but they’d each already been married once and had children from those previous spouses. But Stiles did call her “Mom” sometimes. How long had they known each other? How well were they acquainted? Did John know his son called her mom?

 

It seemed to Derek that there were more layers to his current clientele than he’d originally expected, and that was distracting enough that he couldn’t properly focus on the other party guests.

 

And it was also hard to think about new clients or soul mates when Derek couldn’t find any peace or quiet.

 

“You believe in second love, right?” And this time it was Stiles who had sought him out in the crowd. “Cause I really love Ms. McCall, you know? In a mom kind of way. I mean, that should be expected, I guess, since she half-raised me after my real mom died. And Dad loves her too, at least I think he does, but I also worry he’s gonna be one of those guys who never looks at anyone after their first soul mate dies. And I just want him to be happy, you know? I think she could make him happy.”

 

“Stiles, how much have you had to drink?” Derek asked and crossed his arms, leaning back against a pole that had waves painted around and up it. So he was sticking to the edges of the event and yet he still couldn’t escape. … Well, that was what he wanted, right? To be forced to meet people? To find his soul mate?

 

“Actually, not a lot. I’m just naturally chatty. Your sour face and my annoying personality just sort of clash too quick for you to really notice.” But the half empty glass in his hand argued against him, especially as he downed half of the remaining liquid right then. “Okay, stop trying to break my brain with your disbelieving eyebrows. It’s my third one, alright?”

 

A waiter passed by then, and Stiles gulped down the remainder of his drink like a shot of whiskey and then replaced his glass with one from the waiter’s tray.

 

Before he could get the liquid to his lips, Derek snatched the drink away and handed it back to the waiter. Stiles complained a little too loudly, but a glare from Derek shut him up mid-word.

 

“Wh-What?” Stiles asked, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his jacket. “It’s just a few drinks.”

 

“It’s a problem,” Derek grunted. “Look, you’re dad- I mean, maybe you could get your head out of your ass and stop drinking before it hurts someone around you.”

 

Okay. Stiles and Derek hadn’t really gotten along yet, unless you counted that one conversation, but whatever fraction of camaraderie they’d built up, Derek was certain he’d just destroyed it. Because the perfect way to make friends was to remind them of their father’s drinking habits.

 

God, he was such an idiot.

 

After the death of his wife and beloved soul mate, Claudia, John Stilinski was next in the news when he checked into a rehab for alcoholics. He was out of the music business for three months while he got his life on track, and since leaving with a golden stamp of approval from his sponsor he had reportedly never had a drop to drink. It had been roughly five years.

 

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Stiles seemed frozen, stunned and having trouble figuring out how he should react.

 

“Excuse me,” a timid, female voice broke their silence and though they both turned to see who it was, Stiles’ eyes quickly returned to Derek. The woman speaking was a little older than Derek, with long dark hair and bright red lips. Her skin was pale, and her skirt was a tad too short, her shirt with a v-neck just shallow enough to be tasteful. Her professional look was verging on flirty.

 

“Can I help you?” Derek asked, regaining his composure. He could be professional. He could. He just seemed to have trouble maintaining that when it involved anyone named Stilinski.

 

“Yes. Hi. My name is Jennifer Blake. I’m a writer, mostly journalism for Rolling Stones magazine, but my own work as well. Sorry, not important. You’re… Derek Hale, right? Of Hale Security?” she asked.

 

With a nod, Derek took her extended hand and they shook. Despite Stiles Stilinski being less than two feet away from her, Jennifer never looked away from Derek. In fact, she seemed unable to notice anyone else in the room, and her breath came out in a tiny, nervous laugh.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m just a fan of your family’s work, and I’d heard of you, but-… Well this may sound inappropriate, but you’re more handsome than the stories give you credit for,” she admitted and tucked her hair behind her ear.

 

Something in Derek’s stomach churned and he smiled just a little. “Thank you, Ms. Blake. You look lovely tonight as well.”

 

“Jennifer. I mean, call me Jennifer.” Despite the innocence in her tone, the way she bit her lip made Derek think of someone flirting forcefully. The way she stood, not slouching but still somehow smaller than she should be, and the nervous way she kept pushing her hair back – Derek was probably imagining the sexual clues.

 

“Jennifer,” Derek said in agreement. “Sorry, did you have any questions for me?”

 

While she took a deep breath, the journalist reached out and took up Derek’s right hand in her own. At the same moment, as if trying to beat her to it, another hand snapped around Derek’s right wrist, over the cuffs that hid his glowing zeroes from view. A startling shock ran through Derek’s body and he sucked in a tiny, surprised breath.

 

Barely a heartbeat later, the second hand was removed as both Jennifer and Derek glanced over at its owner. Stiles flexed his hand and frowned, then he pursed his lips and looked between the other two. His gaze lingered on Derek, but then he settled his eyes on Jennifer.

 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I have other people to go say hi too, and didn’t want Mr. Hale to worry I’d been kidnapped under his nose or something. It was nice meeting you.” The singer skillfully took Jennifer’s hand to shake, the one that had been holding Derek’s. “Please make sure to return him by midnight, or he might turn into a moldy old pumpkin.” And then Stiles turned on his heel and strode away into the crowd. As he passed a waiter, Derek saw him reach for a glass of champagne before reconsidering and turn to accept a soda from a different waiter.

 

“Awfully protective of you, isn’t he?” Jennifer said, rubbing her hands together and staring hard at Stiles’ retreating figure.

 

“If you say so,” Derek answered, but she was right.

 

The relationship between Derek and Stiles was choppy at best. Insults, sass, and banter were common. They didn’t get along well or talk about themselves, and the one time Stiles tried, Derek had basically suggested Stiles was on the road to alcoholism for having four glasses of champagne. The whole thing was a horrible train wreck and yet –

 

And yet Stiles had defended the Hales to his manager so they could keep the job instead of having it handed over to the Argents. And yet Stiles had sought Derek out when avoiding Melissa. And yet he apparently had taken offense to Jennifer interrupting another one of their downward spiral conversations.

 

“Let’s try this again,” Jennifer said, smiling and locking gazes with Derek, cutting off the man’s thoughts of Stiles. “I was wondering if… if you’re not opposed to the idea, if maybe you’d like to have a drink with me sometime.”

 

Eyebrows raised, Derek wondered if he’d misunderstood. Have a drink? Like go out to a bar? With her? Maybe he hadn’t been reading the flirting signs wrong.

 

“I know you’re extremely busy with the tour, but I’m doing a story on Stiles and the tour anyway, so you might actually see me around quite a bit, and I’d hate for us to be strangers. So-,” and here she paused her quick speech to take a steady breath, “Would you like to?”

 

The tingling in Derek’s body had ceased awhile ago, when Stiles had pulled Jennifer’s hand away, but his hand and wrist still prickled. Letting his eyes wander over Jennifer, he knew that she was beautiful. Her curves, her eyes, her smile. She was sweet, if a bit shy, and that was endearing as well. And the tingling when they touched- didn’t that mean…

 

“Sure,” he agreed and smiled once more. “I’d like that very much.”

 

Generally, Derek would distance himself from advances like this. He was supposed to be looking for clients, not dates, but his zeroes tugged at his mind. Jennifer could very well be his soul mate. When she spoke to him was the only time Stiles had left his mind in days. That kind of all-encompassing attention had to be a sign, right? And Derek might be a bit dim in relationships, but he wasn’t about to pass up on a sign like that.

\-- -- -- --

 

On the bus ride back to the hotel, the group was joined by Stiles’ father. He and Duke discovered they both had an interest in owning boats, but not in actually boating, and somehow that got them discussing plans for dog adoption. Derek pointedly pretended not to overhear them, especially when they hinted at making it a group effort sort of deal. In no way would Derek be part of adopting an entire shelter worth of dogs, and John shouldn’t be agreeing either. He was far too busy to care for what sounded like a plan for ten dogs. And anyway, Derek had given up on that dream when he was seven.

 

The sudden camaraderie between the two was weird for him, although he couldn’t pinpoint why. Derek had always liked Deucalion. Once you were able to get past the oddity of his name, he was… well he was probably exactly what the name made you expect. He was old-fashioned and from a wealthy family, but he never looked down on clients. He admired people who aspired to do more with their lives, to touch people with their passions and change the world. All things considered, he was almost too optimistic about people.

 

When Duke, as they’d taken quickly to calling him, met the children of Talia Hale, he’d been just an interested philanthropist. Talia had been hosting her annual Christmas party to raise money for community programs that helped the homeless and those unable to afford schooling, and Duke had attended to donate. Meeting Laura and having his wrist light up like a Christmas tree was unexpected, but their arms had bumped while both reaching for things at the snack table and then they’d knocked over the platter of deviled eggs in their shock, and he offered to pay for her dry cleaning while she offered to take him out for drinks, and it didn’t take long for their laughing to draw the attention of every Hale in the building.

 

Once upon a time, Derek had been younger and less interested in his numbers on a serious note. He was too caught up in the social idea of your numbers being a mark of your maturity and how long until you were a true man instead of being caught up in the curiosity of who the person was that would supposedly capitalize that manliness. When he met Duke, one of the first questions he’d asked the man was how it felt to find his soul mate when he was in his thirties.

 

Most people found their mates in their twenties, so hadn’t he been embarrassed by the abnormally large number on his wrist? Hadn’t people made fun of him? Duke just smiled and told Derek that teenagers were cruel, but it didn’t make them right. Since zeroing out, Deucalion had pondered over every possible woman he met, because he knew it would be a woman, and yet Laura had snuck in under the radar and happily surprised him by the table. She’d been everything he’d been looking for but had somehow overlooked. So no, he wasn’t upset about how long it took. He was just pleased that it finally had.

 

Sitting on that bus, rubbing his fingers over his wristband, Derek thought of Jennifer and wondered if his wrist would light up if he pressed it to hers. Would she like that or would she be disappointed? Derek wasn’t exactly a social winner. When he tried to be social, he tended to come off as arrogant or rude or both. Would she like that? If she was his soul mate, she’d have to, right?

 

Stiles was laid out on the couch beside Derek. His feet were barely an inch from being in Derek’s lap, and his head was on the tiny couch pillow that matched the one on Derek’s other side. When Derek looked over at him, thinking about how Stiles knew all about Derek’s grumpy social skills, he saw the singer had headphones in and his eyes closed. With the steady rising of his chest, it was hard to tell if the younger man was asleep or awake.

 

One arm was raised above his head, dangling off the end of the couch, and the other was resting on his stomach. When Stiles shifted slightly, his arm pulled on his shirt and exposed a sliver of pale skin and a trail of hair disappearing down into the singer’s black jeans. In a second shift, Stiles stretched out his legs, simply but effectively claiming Derek as part of his temporary bed.

 

Honestly, Derek wanted to get mad and push the legs off, sending Stiles sprawling to the floor. But instead, he swallowed the urge and crossed his arms. Stiles seemed more tired than he should be after a simple party, and if it was related to his illness, then Derek didn’t want to disturb him before need be.

 

When he looked around for something to distract him from Stiles’ happy trail, he found Melissa glancing up covertly from the book she was reading. Her eyes met Derek’s and she smiled and shrugged. Whatever she’d been worried about during the party was gone from her eyes, and the weight on her shoulders seemed lighter.

 

As she returned to reading, Derek wondered if she looked more relaxed because John was there. Was that what soul mates did for each other? They made each other more relaxed? And why did it have to relate back to soul mates? Derek didn’t used to think like this. Before he zeroed out, he would’ve assumed Melissa’s calm persona meant she trusted Derek, but now he was stuck in a loop of trying to tie together the threads from Melissa McCall and John Stilinski, as though seeing how they fit together would help him figure his own life out.

 

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times, making noises like he was thirsty, and rolled onto his side. One of his ear buds fell out and Derek stopped messing with his wrist while he noted the place where Stiles’ ear turned into the pale skin of his cheek. His arms dropped to his lap, over Stiles’ legs, as he took the time to familiarize himself with the pattern of moles on Stiles’ profile.

 

Melissa knew about Stiles’ illness and she didn’t seem concerned at all about Stiles being tired. Perhaps it was just concert fatigue. Still Derek found himself worrying and wondering if there was any external proof of the sickness or if it was all internal. Maybe Melissa would tell him one day… or Scott.

 

Across from him, Laura had nodded off on the table but she groaned then, and he was sure that if she woke up while Stiles was still sprawled out across Derek’s lap, she would have a small heart attack and pester him for the rest of the week about it. It was incentive to follow through on his impulse to push Stiles off, but instead he just smiled and imagined all the ways he could taunt her while she questioned him.

 

It took twenty minutes to get to the hotel from that thought, and somewhere in that time Derek dozed off too, his hands resting on Stiles’ knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 5:
> 
> Derek has a date with Jennifer Blake, unless it’s not a date?, and with Laura’s iPod. A surprise opening act joins the tour, for better or worse, and Derek finds out he likes caramel in more than just his coffee… which makes breathing surprisingly difficult.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has a date with Jennifer Blake, unless it’s not a date?, and with Laura’s iPod. A surprise opening act joins the tour, for better or worse, and Derek finds out he likes caramel in more than just his coffee… which makes breathing surprisingly difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, everyone.
> 
> The song Derek listens to in this chapter is "Gasoline" by Rob Thomas.

Chapter 5

 

“Oh well, oh well. I guess you got it all worked out so far. You adjust your reason until you see the light from where you are.”

 

Derek sat in his hotel room, notepad in front of him. He had meant to write notes about the people he met at the party, an update for his mother on business and potential clients, but the page was blank. Over his ears was a pair of red headphones attached to an iPod. Not his iPod, but Laura’s. So long as it got back in her bag before she noticed it was missing, all would be fine.

 

“Won’t you listen to me? Well I tried so hard to give you what you need, and it burned like gasoline. Oh no.”

 

Stiles’ voice drifted through the speakers, almost disinterested in its tone, but also sad. The whole album, actually, was filled with the strange tone. The songs weren’t hard-rock angsty or even rage against the system style compositions, and yet Derek got anger and disappointment and sadness out of all the songs.

 

“It never took a lot to make this hard. Cause you’re so off-balance, and I knew all the words to set you off.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Derek looked down at the track name. This was the fifth song on the album, and he was starting to get concerned. The album title was “Push”, like the song Stiles had sung to Derek on stage.

 

Wait. No.

 

He hadn’t sung it to Derek. It was in the set list before Stiles ever met Laura and Derek Hale, and Stiles had only looked over at Derek during that song because they’d been fighting and the song was about-

 

“Won’t you listen to me? Well I tried so hard to give you what you need, and it burned like gasoline. Burned like gasoline. Oh no. Burned like gasoline.”

 

Was this a break-up album? These songs were about fighting with someone you loved, about things not working out. Derek had thought they were ambiguous, sung for the fans who would go wild with it, but the way they were sung and the wording… these were actual break-up songs, weren’t they?

 

Checking the clock, Derek quickly backed out of the album and clicked on The Fray’s album instead. Then he slid the iPod and headset into Laura’s suitcase and returned to his seat at the desk. Less than a minute later, Laura strolled inside. Exactly on time, as always.

 

“Hey,” she greeted and presented him with a coffee. “You make that list for mom yet?”

 

“No. Working on it,” Derek said, which wasn’t a complete lie. He’d been trying, but he’d also been distracted. “Did you have anyone to write down? Someone I didn’t meet?”

 

“Missy Elliot,” Laura said flippantly, which was a joke because Missy Elliot hadn’t been at the party. Then Laura dropped down on the bed and leaned forward. “More important, actually, is who you met that I didn’t.”

 

“And who’s that?” Derek asked, quickly scribbling down the names of everyone he could remember speaking to. He was meant to make a short list for his mom of the people who seemed the most interested, but he was on a time crunch.

 

With a scoff, Laura shifted to lie down. “Uh, Miss Blake? Stiles told me she was practically eating you with her eyes.”

 

“Stiles?” And now Derek couldn’t remember his uncle’s first name, much less anyone he met last night.

 

Smirking, Laura pretty much hummed when she spoke. “Oh yeah. He was in the room when I went down to speak with Melissa. Ranting away to Scott while Melissa and I spoke business. Miss Blake was batting her eyes and leaning into your personal space. Sounds like someone really wanted to get your attention. So… Did you get her number?”

 

“Yes, actually. I did,” Derek said, and hoped that would be the end of it. Laura was always putting her nose in his business, though, so he should have known better.

 

“Wait, yes?” she asked and sat up again. “And you’re going to call her?”

 

“I texted her this morning. She’s covering the concert tomorrow night so I told her we could get lunch before. She accepted. I figured you could handle the prep work for an hour.” And Derek pulled his phone from his pocket as he spoke, opening up a message to his mother.

 

While he remade the list from his notepad, he took note of the distinct silence behind him. Laura was never so quiet about Derek’s personal life… or any part of his life, for that matter. After hitting send, he frowned and turned to look at her.

 

“Something wrong?” he asked.

 

She was cross legged on the bed, hunched over and pressing her hand to her lips contemplatively. At the question, however, she perked up. “Nope. Nothing. But hey, you know what? I think Stiles was a little jealous of your date. He told me to warn you about people who seem too anxious.”

 

“Considering he’s the one who thought I’d need help finding my soul mate, that’s surprisingly rude of him. If he has time to be invading my personal life, he should really focus on his own,” Derek grunted and then looked over at Laura’s bag where the iPod was hiding. “Hey, Laura. Has Stiles ever dated before?”

 

At first Laura looked like she wanted to say some choice words to him, but then she sighed and tilted her head as she thought. “Nothing the public heard about,” she finally determined. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he had, though. Why?”

 

“No reason,” Derek said and turned back to the desk, tapping his pencil on his notepad and trying to think about anything or anyone else.

\-- -- --

 

Now that Derek’s numbers were so important to him, he started taking notice of other people’s wrists. When he’d met Stiles, he’d thought the singer was a bit odd for the wrist bands, and maybe he was going overboard with the bandages underneath, but now that Derek looked around, he noticed that quite a few people used things to cover their wrists.

 

In the coffee shop alone, half the patrons wore some type of wrist guard, long sleeves, or fat bracelets and watches. The other half wore their numbers proudly – a mix of different times and blank skin. Thinking back to John Stilinski’s wrist, Derek recalled the expensive watch covering his wrist, and then Melissa had those long sleeved cardigans. Both of their wrists showed zeroes, he was sure of it, and part of him wanted to grab their wrists and set them together to prove his own theory that they were compatible, but-

 

“Are you listening?” Jennifer asked, drawing Derek out of his thoughts.

 

“Sorry. I got distracted. You were saying?” he prompted and focused his attention on his date.

 

She was a fan of the big bracelet cover-up, but as his soul mate, her wrist most definitely held a big, bright set of zeros. In her hands, held in her delicate fingers, was a mug that used to hold black coffee with two sugars added.  Her bracelet didn’t budge an inch as she set the mug down to keep talking.

 

“I was telling you about my article. I did a piece about the Argents awhile back and I asked if you’d like to know some of their dirty secrets. You know, so maybe you could take them down a notch and win some of their clients,” Jennifer explained.

 

But Derek shook his head before she was even done. “No, that’s not how we operate. We win over clients with our skills and capability, not by shaming the competition… but thanks. It was a nice offer.”

 

Never had a Hale resorted to dirty tricks to beat the Argents. Except that one time when Uncle Peter somehow got his hands on nude photos of golden child Kate Argent and they spread like wildfire on the internet. Not that anyone, including Derek, could prove Peter did it or ever had the images in his possession, but Derek knew he’d done it, and so did the Argents, and that was the important part.

 

That was six years ago, and honestly Derek was surprised the Argents hadn’t tried to get revenge yet.

 

“Honorable,” Jennifer said, her voice a downright purr. “I like that.”

 

When his stomach rolled over in response, Derek took a huge gulp of his caramel iced coffee to quiet it. That purr was powerful, and he hadn’t expected it from someone who looked so unimposing. She reached for his hand and brushed her fingers over his, sending a tiny shudder through his arm. Every time she touched him, it was like feeling his skin prickle with goose bumps, and it made his heart quicken.

 

Clearing his throat, Derek made a point of looking at his watch. “Sorry. I have to start heading back. The show tonight has a big opening act and we have to prepare for double security.”

 

“Oh? Who’s the opening act?” Jennifer asked, standing with Derek.

 

With a slight smirk, Derek shrugged. “A… friend of a friend of my family.”

\-- -- -- --

 

When the door opened to the second tour bus, no one was expecting the forceful woman who stepped off. Her hair was like fire, curled and crimped to fall around her face like a lion’s mane, and her tight lips and stern brow made most of the gathered welcoming party take a step back. She wasted no time, and as soon as her hundred dollar kitten heels touched the asphalt, she was clicking her way over to Melissa McCall.

 

“Ms. McCall,” she greeted, her voice all business. “Tell me you have doubled the security for tonight’s show. After what happened at Stiles’ first concert, you can understand our worries about safety.”

 

“Of course, Ms. Martin,” Melissa greeted with a polite smile. “And you can understand that I’d rather discuss the details with your mother.”

 

There was a scoff and the red head opened her mouth to argue, but then an older woman of similar appearance cleared her throat in warning, and the hot shot red head rolled her eyes and walked away from Ms. McCall.

 

“Lydia, it’s very rude to suggest people aren’t doing their jobs,” Mrs. Martin scolded and made her way over to Melissa. “Sorry about her. She’s very protective.”

 

In the crowd, Laura leaned into Derek and pursed her lips. “Well I guess it’s good to see Lydia hasn’t changed,” she murmured and Derek nodded his agreement.

 

Lydia Martin was a bit of star in the Hale Security family. At only sixteen years old, she became known in the music business for taking control of situations she was not in charge of. Her mother, Natalie Martin, was just like Melissa McCall. She managed a few different small-time singers and acts before landing her big gig with her current client. But Lydia was the one who made headlines. Whether bad or good, Lydia’s no-games attitude had won her the respect or fear of many.

 

She was a mother bear in the body of a now-twenty-one-year-old woman.

 

Of course there was another reason she was famous in the Hale Security family.

 

“Lydia?” a voice called from the back of the ground and Jordan Parrish pushed his way to the front. The young woman turned to face the call and anyone who hadn’t stepped back before did so then…except for Jordan.

 

When he got to the front, Lydia’s face broke into a warm smile. “Jordan,” she greeted. It was not ecstatic. It was not energetic. But it was genuinely pleased. Apparently only the Hales could tell. The hired help didn’t seem so sure, and one of them gave Parrish a wary look as he grinned and headed for Lydia.

 

Jordan stopped just short of Lydia and took a deep breath. “It’s really good to see you,” he said.

 

There was another scoff from Lydia and then she was smiling too. “Oh shut up and hug me, idiot.”

 

Then Jordan was wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground as she laughed and wrapped her arms around his strong neck. The tension in the crowd weakened, but people still seemed confused. After a long moment, Jordan finally set her back on her feet and then she pulled him down to her height for a kiss. He was only a few inches taller, but you could really tell the difference when she manhandled him like that. Jordan didn’t mind though.

 

“Good to see that hasn’t changed either,” Derek muttered and this time Laura nodded, a warm smile on her lips.

 

Jordan Parrish joined the Hale Security firm five years ago. Everyone instantly loved him, or at least couldn’t say anything bad about him. He had a way with people that was too similar to Talia’s gifts for anyone to express any cross feelings. And then two years ago, while working a show, he’d run into the beautiful and young Miss Lydia Martin.

 

She’d liked him because he didn’t flinch when she spoke and honestly seemed to consider everything she said worth listening to. He liked her because she was loyal to her friends and believed in herself, and she always told him he had the kindest heart in the world.  Honestly, Derek couldn’t even remember how they’d finally brushed arms and found out they were soul mates, but he’s pretty sure that whatever happened was instigated by Lydia.

 

Their relationship really threw the Hale Security family into a short-lived panic. Not because they had anything against Lydia – oh no. It was who Lydia was so protective of and who her mother worked for.

 

Stepping off the bus at the end of Lydia and Jordan’s display of affection was a young woman with wavy black hair and pretty, full lips. She smiled shyly at the PDA and rubbed at her covered wrists, a motion Derek was too familiar with these days.

 

“Hey Lydia, you might want to consider letting him breathe,” she joked despite her demeanor, and when Lydia broke off her kiss, she turned to smile smugly at the other girl.

 

“I think someone’s a bit jealous,” Lydia said and tilted her head. Jordan laughed softly, his eyes on Lydia. “Get yourself a soul mate, Allison, and then we’ll see the pot call the kettle black.”

 

Now Melissa stepped forward and held out her hand to shake Allison’s hand. “Miss Argent, welcome to the tour.”

 

A small shocked noise caught Derek’s attention behind him and he turned his head around to see who made it. Stiles was there, his conspicuous hoodie in place, and his eyes were wide. When he saw Derek take notice of him, he made wild motions with his hands to suggest Derek should keep quiet. With a small nod of his head, Derek accepted and Stiles calmed, but then he started making new hand motions indicating Allison and then Derek and then an iffy motion, and honestly Derek had no idea what he was trying to say at all.

\-- -- --

 

“No, but it just hit me!” Stiles exclaimed when Derek walked into his dressing room twenty minutes later.

 

After their failed communication attempt, Stiles just mouthed to meet him in his room asap and left. As soon as Allison and her team were escorted away, Derek excused himself and headed inside to find out the cause of Stiles’ wild actions.

 

“She’s an Argent! You’re a Hale! What was Melissa thinking when she hired you?” he ranted, spinning slightly in his little chair.

 

Derek grabbed the back of it to stop the movement and leaned over the other male. “You don’t think she should have hired us? Weren’t you the one who defended our employment?”

 

“That’s not what I meant. I meant there’s history between your families. She’s the competition! No wonder the Argents wanted the contract so bad. Did you know she was gonna be running with us for a few shows?” Stiles asked.

 

“Yes,” Derek replied, and for some reason Stiles swallowed heavily. Trying not to focus on the other’s Adam’s apple, Derek continued. “But she’s not the competition. Allison is a singer, not a security firm. She left the family business to follow her dreams. I’ve known her for a few years, and I’m telling you, no one assigned to this detail has any hard feelings toward her for whom her family is.”

 

“But someone in your family does,” Stiles clarified and lowered his legs to the floor, sitting up straighter.

 

“Yes,” Derek said again. They were very close to each other, especially with Stiles’ new position, and Derek had a front row seat to the caramel depths of Stiles’ eyes. “My… “

 

What was this feeling? Derek couldn’t move. His hand was glued to the back of Stiles’ chair, and he couldn’t leave his position leaning over Stiles. The caramel from Stiles’ eyes was coating Derek’s brain like the flavor of his earlier coffee had coated his tongue, and he was taken aback by how bright and clear they were.

 

“Your?” Stiles prompted, and he sounded almost as stunned as Derek felt.

 

Closing his own eyes, Derek cleared his throat and forced himself to take two steps away from the chair. The movement caused Stiles to spin slightly, but with his feet now on the floor, the singer easily stopped himself.

 

“My uncle, Peter Hale, tends to hold grudges. He’s very obsessed with the Argents and our rivalry. When he’s focused, he’s one of the best security officers you’ll ever meet, but Argents distract him too much, so he wasn’t invited,” Derek explained and turned away.

 

In his chest, it felt like someone had beaten his heart with a hammer, and he had to concentrate on breathing normally so Stiles wouldn’t take notice. This feeling… it was awful. Why did looking into Stiles’ eyes cause his chest to feel so tight?

 

“Probably for the best. Wouldn’t want him unscrewing stage lights over her head,” Stiles said jokingly and suddenly Derek was able to breathe freely again.

 

With a small chuckle, he turned back to face Stiles again. “You need more things to tease me about. That joke is getting worn out.”

 

“That joke is five days old,” Stiles reminded. “But I can tease you about the reporter instead, if you’d like. How about – Probably a good thing your uncle didn’t come. He might have made sex eyes at Allison for ten seconds and caused her to fall off stage. Then the Argents would be _really_ pissed they didn’t get this contract.”

 

Although Stiles was smiling, Derek was not. For one thing, his uncle being a creepy almost-pedophile as he wooed Allison Argent was scarily close to everything Derek imagined his uncle doing if he ever showed up here. But for a far more important second thing, Stiles was insulting him.

 

“Why do you care so much who I date?” Derek asked, crossing his arms and setting a stern stare on those brilliant caramel eyes.

 

Something clogged Stiles’ throat for a moment before he stuttered out. “Date? You just met her. You’re dating her? Already?”

 

“Yes,” Derek grunted out, although he wasn’t sure if one coffee meet up would constitute as he and Jennifer dating. Should he ask her about that? Or could he just assume from her flirty talk and her asking him out the first time that they were officially dating now? “Now what’s your problem?”

 

“Nothing.” But it obviously bothered Stiles. He pursed his lips together and returned Derek’s glare. “I just didn’t realize you were such a romantic. Just a warning – sometimes people who are too good to be true, actually are. Watch yourself.”

 

“Thanks, but I think I can handle my own love life,” Derek growled out and headed for the door. “Your concern about Allison is appreciated, but the family rivalry won’t affect business. I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

 

“Wai-“

 

But Derek was out the door and cutting Stiles off with a firm slam of the wood. What a brat. Okay, so Stiles was barely legal, just old enough to have those five glasses of champagne, but that didn’t give him justification for insensitively butting into Derek’s personal life over and over again.

 

First it was making fun of his zeroes. Now he was calling Derek a bad judge of character and a hopeless romantic. Derek was trying so hard to not hold it all against Stiles, but if he kept this shit up, Derek was going to reach his breaking point and ask to be removed to another assignment. Seriously. Fuck this kid.

 

And yet, all the way back to the security room, Derek kept feeling that strange numbness that had overcome him when he stared into Stiles’ eyes. Was this a sign like Jennifer’s tingles? Was it possible he and Stiles were never meant to get along? Or maybe… No.

 

No, Derek was a one love kind of guy. He didn’t have two soul mates. Besides, his reactions to being with either of them were completely different. They were not the same at all, and Jennifer’s were far more pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview, Chapter 6:
> 
> Derek’s relationship with Jennifer is hard to define, but it’s way easier than his relationship with Stiles. Scott is sure Stiles actually wants to be friends with Derek, but Derek isn’t so sure, and figuring it out only becomes more of a challenge after an intense private meeting with Stiles after the concert.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s relationship with Jennifer is hard to define, but it’s way easier than his relationship with Stiles. Scott is sure Stiles actually wants to be friends with Derek, but Derek isn’t so sure, and figuring it out only becomes more of a challenge after an intense private meeting with Stiles after the concert.

So maybe this whole soul mate thing wasn’t as crystal clear as Derek had expected it to be.

As he stood off stage before the concert, he watched Stiles bounce up and down, a ball of nerves, and drink half a bottle of water. Without a doubt, he found Stiles entrancing, and after the whole numb shock incident from earlier that day, he couldn’t stop noticing the singer. It was even worse than usual.

The way his throat bobbed as he drank, the shake of his hands as he bounced, the way he shook his right arm more than his left and kept glancing at Derek whenever he did, and the roll of his shoulders to release tension – everything was illuminated like a garish neon sign before Derek’s eyes, and he was unable to focus on anything else.

The two of them were ten feet apart, but Derek felt like he could reach out and find Stiles within his grasp in an instant. This wasn’t normal, and he really wanted to ask someone about it, if only he could look away.

You’re a security guard, he reminded himself. You have a job to do.

With nothing short of a godly amount of effort, Derek forced himself to scan the catwalk and the people in the area. He recognized each and every one of them, and nothing seemed tampered with. Security was doubled, covering all available entrances, so nothing should go wrong tonight, but his chest still felt tight with worry, and he couldn’t place why.

“Derek!” He heard Jennifer but didn’t see her. When he turned, Jordan was holding her back from coming into the area, but she was waving at Derek to have her let through.

A quick glance at Stiles proved the singer had also turned to look at the speaker, but his eyes found Derek’s almost at the same time Derek’s found his, and then they both looked away instantly. Cursing himself and his hormones, Derek did his best to push Stiles out of his mind and waved for Jordan to let Jennifer come over to him.

She made the distance in rapid steps, her heels clicking daintily on the thick floor. The occasional clicking of Lydia’s heels on the other side of the backstage area was completely different, and Derek wasn’t surprised he could tell the difference.

Without warning, Jennifer wrapped her arms around Derek and squeezed him tightly but briefly. “Good luck with the concert,” she said.

“You should probably be saying that to the performers, actually,” he pointed out and motioned half-heartedly at Allison, who was preparing to go on. The crowd was jabbering loudly, just out of view, and she seemed determinedly calm. Having Lydia standing there, muttering things to her, probably helped. Derek imagined it was a badass pep talk.

“Okay, but it’s your show too. Anyway, I thought maybe we could meet up tomorrow… or at least talk on the phone? And then you could give me all the best behind-the-scenes details. Although, nothing that will get you fired. I don’t want to ruin your career. That’s one of the things I like about you.” And she tugged gently on the collar of his jacket like a period to her statement.

The weird butterflies were back in Derek’s stomach, and he didn’t know what to do about them. Jennifer was standing so close, her perfume in his nose, and she looked so good in her casual professional outfit with the short skirt and the red red lips. Without waiting to hear what the niggling in the back of his mind was trying to tell him, Derek leaned forward and kissed her.

It could have been a bad move. They’d only seen each other for coffee, after all. However, she responded enthusiastically. Her arms went around his neck and when the kiss ended, she pulled him tight against her. Everywhere her skin touched his, he felt warm tingles, and it was such a pleasant feeling, especially next to the inability to breathe he got around Stiles earlier. So he kissed her again, just to feel those tingles on his lips too.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised and earned a foxy smile in return.

“I look forward to it,” she said and then turned and walked away much slower than she’d approached.

Jordan gave Derek a funny look just before he led her out, and Derek didn’t really understand why, but before he could even think about asking, the alert was given. Showtime in two minutes. Allison adjusted her jacket and Lydia gave her a big hug, and then Natalie Martin was there, ready to give the sign to go on.

Allison’s opening act would last for half an hour, meaning Stiles wouldn’t go on for at least another forty-five minutes. But already he looked tired and sweaty.

With a frown, Derek walked over to him but refrained from touching him. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Stiles started to nod, but a sudden pain made him freeze and he squinted his eyes. “Call Scott… Please.”

Derek touched his earpiece and grabbed his walkie. Very calmly, he said, “If anyone is near Scott McCall, could you please send him to the side stage.”

A local officer copied, and Derek nodded. Relief went through Stiles like a wave, but worry went through Derek. Scott said Stiles’ condition wouldn’t get in the way of work, so why was it happening now – right before a concert?

Allison went on stage and the crowd roared to life before she did so much as wave, and Lydia perched herself just out of view, watching everything like a hawk ready to strike. With her around, Allison didn’t even need security.

A hiss from Stiles brought Derek back to what was happening right in front of him, and when he looked, Stiles was pressing a hand into his chest and his right arm was tight against his side. Despite the concern on his face, anyone that could only see his back would suspect little. He still bounced like before, but to Derek it now looked like someone trying to let off excess tension from pain and not merely anxiety.

It took less than two minutes of Allison’s performance for Scott to show up. He took one look at Derek standing less than a foot from Stiles and his face turned to stone. One stern look from Derek, however, had him trying to look downright cheery instead.

“Hey, you wanted to see me?” he asked as he approached and put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Did you bring one?” Stiles asked quietly and pulled his hand from his chest.

Wordlessly, Scott dropped one of the smaller pills into Stiles’ hand. Stiles put it between his teeth and then swallowed it with a chug of water without complaint. A few panting breaths later, and all the tension drained from Stiles’ body. It was a good thing that medication worked as fast as it did.

“All good?” Scott asked, and Stiles nodded.

“Sorry, bro. Didn’t mean to drag you away. Were you with your mom or Kira?” And as usual, Stiles perked up and started acting as if nothing had happened, which only made Derek frown deeper.

“Both actually, but Mom should be coming over pretty soon to give you one last pep-talk before the show. Not that you need it.” And Scott pat his friend heartily on the back. “You’re gonna kill it out there.”

As long as no actual killing went on, Derek was totally behind that statement. He’d actually enjoyed the stadium concert the other day. It had gone so well, he’d actually been worried about it. The whole way back to the hotel, he kept thinking the bus would flip or Stiles would trip and break his leg on the stairs.

“Right, well go back to your ladies, and hey, take Loved-Up with you. He’s hovering,” Stiles said and motioned to Derek.

“Loved-Up?” Scott asked, brow knit, and Stiles must have given him an interesting look in reply, because the assistant stage manager quickly let it go. “Alright. Come on, Derek.”

He started to leave, but Derek didn’t. Instead, he grabbed Stiles gently by the upper arm and dared himself to look straight into those confused, caramel eyes.

“Take it easy,” Derek said, voice low. “No one can save you from yourself. Not even me. Especially when you act like nothing’s wrong.”

The numb feeling was spreading through his chest, and Derek knew that if he stayed there much longer, he would find trouble breaking away, but he waited for Stiles’ response regardless. Stiles swallowed thickly and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly. “Now go. I don’t need you watching over me like I’m going to break.”

“But are you going to break?” Derek asked, intensely serious.

Now Stiles’ eyes narrowed and he barely shook his head. “See? This is why I didn’t want anyone to know.” He shook Derek off and looked away, breaking the moment. “Get out of here, Derek.”

And though it was his job to stand on the side stage, Derek obeyed. With an easy call on the radio, Jordan took his place and a local took up guard at the entrance. Several paces ahead, Scott waited for him, but once Derek caught up, he wasted no time in exiting the area.

The booming from Allison’s music could be heard throughout the building, but the actual words and treble notes were severely muffled. As they passed into this muted part of the area, Scott sighed.

“Stiles actually likes you, did you know?” he said, linking his hands behind his head.

“What?” Derek almost stopped walking but then doubled his steps to catch up.

“I know, I know. He just kicked you out from backstage, and yeah he tells me you guys fight all the time – in fact he’ll take any chance he can get to rant about your complete lack of social skills, but that’s special. Stiles doesn’t talk about anyone the way he rants about you – good or bad. And he sent me to keep you company during the signing event, and like… I don’t know. I think he wants to be friends,” Scott explained.

Another few steps had them stopping in front of Stiles’ prep room. Typically he’d still be in there, but not tonight. Melissa and Kira probably were, though.

“Friends,” Derek muttered and thought about the numb feeling still receding from his body. “Friends could be… nice.”

Scott turned on his heel to face Derek, but he didn’t speak. His expression was confused, his brow knit and his lips a little tighter and his head tilted slightly to his right. Perhaps he was wondering if Derek didn’t want to be friends with Stiles and then why that would be.

He couldn’t possibly know what Derek was really thinking, because Derek was thinking about Jennifer’s red, red lips, and how he’d kissed them, but when he imagined pulling back, it was from Stiles’ thin lips. He was thinking about the break up album, and wondering if Stiles used to have someone special, the way Derek had, and if that was why he was so satirical.

“Stiles-,” Scott began and then hesitated. He dropped his arms to his sides and frowned. “Stiles’ opinion of his security guards is everything in whether they get hired long-term or not,” he said. “Most groups don’t make it past two shows, and no one has made it longer than half a tour in five years. After your actually horrible first impression, Stiles told us he didn’t want anyone else but you guys. We tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t budge.”

The beat of Derek’s heart matched the upbeat rhythm from the concert.

“Don’t you get it? He’s the only reason you’re here. He’s never done that before… I just thought you should know how rare it is for Stiles to really want to be around someone these days… and I hope you appreciate it.” Scott turned for the door and shrugged. “You can go do something else, if you want. We don’t actually need you in here.”

But Derek wasn’t done. He took a step forward, catching Scott’s attention, and squared his shoulders. “What happened five years ago?” he asked.

Five years ago, Stiles’ mother passed away. Five years ago, John Stilinski went into rehab. Five years ago-

“What happened eight years ago?” Scott countered. “With you, I mean.”

The numbness in Derek’s chest now had nothing to do with Stiles. He pressed his lips thinly together. “What are you talking about?”

“What, you think we didn’t do a little background digging before we hired you?” Scott asked. “Eight years ago, your uncle is on a job and you’re there to learn the ropes. Afterward, your name doesn’t appear on any work record for two years. So what happened?”

“That’s none of your business,” Derek bit out, brow creased and eyes hard.

“Exactly.” And Scott was so calm that it almost shook the scowl right off Derek’s face. “We all have personal things we don’t want people to know. So back off and stop digging.”

Before more could be said, Scott opened the door and left the hall. For a moment, Derek didn’t know what to think, where to go, and then he was turning and walking back toward the stage.

Scott was right, and the ice in Derek’s chest was proof of that. Derek wouldn’t want someone poking his past with sticks, so he should stop poking Stiles’. It was only fair. Derek didn’t want to talk about eight years ago. He didn’t want to think about it, much less let someone else know about it, so he shouldn’t expect Stiles, or anyone else on the tour, to just spill their guts about the hardest time in Stiles’ life.

But he still wanted to know. He wanted to know so badly that his body kept tensing with pent up energy, and he had nowhere to release it. Why? Why couldn’t he just let it go? He wanted to let it go.

Backstage was out of the question even though Allison would be leaving the stage now and Stiles would be too distracted with preparing to take any notice of Derek. Instead, Derek wandered into the audience area and walked the edges. Everyone was thrumming with energy and excitement and it just made Derek feel all the more twitchy.

He needed… He needed… What did he need? What did he want?

Jennifer spotted him from her seat on the left side of the stage and waved him over. Moving with more urgency than the situation called for, Derek pushed past innocent concert goers until he was standing almost too close to Jennifer.

“Derek, I thought you were-“

But he cut her off, cupping her face and kissing her hard. She was shocked, but she didn’t protest, placing a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him closer. Derek kissed her like he was dying and would never see her again, and the intensity sucked the tension from his shoulders just enough that he could function again.

“Wow,” Jennifer gasped when they parted.

But Derek was looking past her now, up onto the stage. Stiles was in the darkness, just in view from their spot, and he was staring right at them. The two men locked gazes, and a new tension filled Derek’s bones. He couldn’t read Stiles’ expression, but he knew what his body was feeling… and it was a feeling he wasn’t allowed to have.

“Wow,” Jennifer said again, still breathless, and caressed his cheek. He looked down at her, at how beautiful she was, and focused on that warm tingling that originated from her fingertips.

Knowing Stiles had seen him kissing Jennifer made Derek feel… surprisingly possessive. It made no sense, but he felt like he was somehow daring Stiles to prove himself right about Derek and Jennifer’s relationship. He wanted Stiles to tease him and pester him and ask about the relationship.

He wanted Stiles to get jealous.

Which was ridiculous because it wasn’t like they were seeing each other, and damn it, usually he could forget about Stiles when he was with Jennifer.

Trying to push the singer from his mind, he kissed the reporter again, gentler this time, and she sighed at the end of it. “A girl could get used to this,” she warned blissfully and rested her head against Derek’s.

“Good,” Derek grunted and forced himself to imagine spoiling her with random kisses like these. It worked to get his mind off Stiles… at least until the music started and even Jennifer’s attention was on the stage.

Stiles sang with an energy Derek hadn’t seen at the stadium concert, and maybe he was imagining it, but Stiles seemed to look at Derek a lot between songs. Or maybe ‘look’ was the wrong word. Glare. That was a better word. Stiles seemed positively mad whenever he spotted Derek standing by Jennifer, and in that moment nothing could make Derek happier.  
\-- -- -- --

After the concert, Jennifer and Derek made plans to have a coffee date over Skype the next morning, since Derek would be out of town and Jennifer wouldn’t be joining up with the tour again for the next two shows.

No dangerous shenanigans happened during the concert or the clean-up process, but there was some trouble with trying to leave. Someone had slashed all four tires on the main tour bus while it was left to its own devices during the show.

“What now?” Scott asked as they all stood around, staring at it. They’d considered just taking Allison’s bus for the time being, but the same issue had happened to hers too.

With a sigh, Melissa pulled out her phone. “John’s still in the area with his personal car. Nothing we can do but go buy some new tires or call a tow-truck to do it for us.” Then her call connected and she was explaining the situation to Mr. Stilinski.

Laura ran a hand through her hair and groaned, and beside her, Lydia let out an angry huff.

“I can’t believe this. I know this one isn’t the security team’s fault, exactly, but who the hell is doing this? Sabotaging the busses? I just-“ And there was her exasperated groan.

A gentle hand was set on her shoulder, and Allison chuckled. “Calm down, Lydia. It’s nothing an hour won’t fix. We’re not behind schedule or anything.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Allison,” Lydia argued, but she did seem to calm down regardless.

A soft clearing of the throat drew Derek’s attention from the girls and he saw Stiles standing by the building’s back door. He still looked upset when he stared at Derek, but it wasn’t the anger from on stage.

“Alright, everyone,” Melissa called out after she hung up her phone. “Myself, Jordan Parrish, Scott, and Laura Hale will be going to the tire store with John Stilinski to pick up some fresh tires. The rest of you, please go back inside and rest until we get this sorted out.”

Lydia’s mom was left in charge until Melissa got back, which made the woman perk up like a complimented peacock and resemble her daughter even more. People started shuffling inside, except those whose names had been called out, and Derek debated asking why she asked for Laura and not him… except that Stiles was still hovering by the door and letting everyone go inside before him, and it seemed increasingly apparent that he was waiting for Derek.

When almost everyone else had filed inside, Derek joined the flow of people and reentered the building. He was shortly followed by Stiles, who covertly motioned for Derek to follow him as he broke off from the others and headed for his ex-prep room.

No one else came down this hall, preferring instead to go sit in the main lobby where there were plenty of chairs and space. Still, Stiles looked around for others before letting Derek into the room and then following behind him. The door shut and then the lock clicked into place, causing Derek’s stomach to coil.

“Stiles, what-“ But he didn’t get to finish.

“It makes no sense,” Stiles interrupted, body thrumming with energy and eyes on the ground. “I’m- Ugh you’re so irritating!”

“Me?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. Part of him worried the stress and tension evident in Stiles at this moment would trigger his condition, but part of him didn’t care. He was angry at Stiles just the way Stiles seemed angry at him.

“You!” Stiles exclaimed, eyes darting up from the floor to pin Derek in place. “You!”

And then he was rushing Derek, shoving him against the wall opposite the door. Derek raised his hands to detain the singer if he continued to assault him, but then Stiles was pressed against him, hands on either side of Derek’s face, and head so close to Derek’s that their surprised breaths mingled.

Stiles’ caramel eyes were just far enough away that Derek could still see them clearly, and that numb feeling spread rapidly from his chest at their proximity. Luckily, Stiles seemed to be having a similar problem, because his breathing was shallow, like Derek’s.

“I hate you so much,” Stiles murmured, and it held no heat. “You’re an insensitive grouch.”

“And you’re a disrespectful, spoiled child,” Derek grunted back. One of his hands found its way to Stiles’ back, drawn their like a magnet, and moved slowly up to the singer’s shoulder blades.

As soon as Derek’s fingers reached Stiles’ shoulders, the singer leaned forward, as though Derek had pushed him, and pressed his lips to Derek’s. All the anger in Derek was quickly proven to be anything but anger as he instantly slid his eyes shut and kissed back. It felt like lava was pulsing through his heart instead of blood and electricity ran through Stiles’. Stiles was pulling on the back of Derek’s head and Derek was gripping hard to Stiles’ shoulders and they were kissing!

One kiss, two kisses, three- Stiles nipped at Derek’s lower lip and Derek jolted back to his senses, pushing the younger man away several inches.

“Stiles,” he grunted.

“I don’t know, okay?” Stiles said, irritated. “I just- I saw you kissing her and I got so angry. But when I saw you alone again, I just- It’s just- I don’t want you to date her.”

“But I am dating her,” Derek reminded. “And you kissed me.”

“And you kissed me too,” Stiles pointed out. “And you’re holding my shoulders so tight I’m gonna bruise. What’s your point?”

“I’m taken.” And Derek forced himself to release Stiles’ shoulders. “And we hate each other.” He shifted and moved out from between Stiles and the wall, putting space where it needed to be if he was going to keep his head.

“Obviously not. I don’t know about you, but I don’t make out with people I actually hate.” Stiles started to cross his arms but then twitched and put his hands on his hips instead. “Maybe we just really like each other.”

“You can hate someone and still be physically attracted to them,” Derek argued, running a hand through his hair.

How had this happened? Not five minutes prior, he’d wanted to throw Stiles against a wall and… And then nothing. He’d just wanted to push Stiles against the wall. He hadn’t thought past that part. Obviously Stiles had. And maybe Derek was lying. Maybe he’d thought past that too. But he couldn’t. This wasn’t professional. And it wasn’t moral. He was dating Jennifer, wasn’t he?

“So go back to Jennifer then,” Stiles said, and his voice was all hard lines. “But our relationship isn’t normal either. You kissed me back. Don’t think I’m going to pretend this never happened.”

“Why not? It’s how you handle everything else.” And he knew the words were too harsh as soon as they left his mouth, but he couldn’t pull them back.

Stiles frowned and took a deep breath. “Wow, dude. Just wow.” He walked to the door and unlocked it. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are just a grumpy asshole, and maybe I am just a spoiled brat, cause wow, I’m not attracted to you at all right now.”

He opened the door and waited, a silent order for Derek to leave. For a moment, Derek was rooted to his spot, wanting to say something but knowing it would come out harsh and would only make things worse. Then he let out a heavy breath and slowly left the room, staring at Stiles until he was out of the room and the door was shut in his face. Shut, he noticed, and not slammed.

As soon as he was alone, he cursed. What the hell was wrong with him? And what the hell was all that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura maybe, kind of, sort of doesn’t approve of Jennifer. Stiles does a beautiful job of avoiding Derek, but that doesn’t stop Derek thinking about him all the time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura maybe, kind of, sort of doesn’t approve of Jennifer. Stiles does a beautiful job of avoiding Derek, but that doesn’t stop Derek thinking about him all the time.

Soul mates were confusing. Derek hated his numbers. Screw that cosmic atmosphere.

 

Derek had his coffee date with Jennifer while they rode to the next city, because his phone was a portable wifi spot and he was awesome like that. The concert was their main topic, which made it even harder for Derek to not think about Stiles, but that was all Jennifer wanted to hear about. How did Stiles prep for a concert? What kind of mishaps could happen on stage? Was it true someone sabotaged the lights at his first concert?

 

“Where did you hear that?” Derek asked.

 

“It’s all over the internet. I know the official story is equipment failure, but is that the truth?” Wow did she sound like a reporter.

 

“We have no hard evidence of foul play,” Derek lied, but she smirked, which made Derek sure that she didn’t believe him at all.

 

“And what happened last night?” she asked.

 

Images of Stiles so close Derek could smell him flashed in his mind, but he pushed them away. That’s not what she meant. No one knew about that.

 

“One of the busses had a flat tire. There were no major delays,” Derek said, again lying, but this time she seemed more put-out than smug, so he figured he’d won that round.

 

“Well that’s no fun to write about. I’ll have to find a different topic.” Jennifer sipped tea this morning instead of coffee. She said she only drank tea when at home because no one ever served the kind she liked, but she could buy the tea bags herself and do it right.

 

“Hang on. Are you just using me for article ideas?” Derek asked, frowning over his mug. Beside him, but just far away enough to be out of the camera’s view, Laura gave an indignant look at the computer, expressing quite beautifully what Derek was feeling.

 

“Of course not,” Jennifer assured. “That’s just a perk. Honestly, I just love listening to you talk. You just seem more open when you talk about Stiles and the concert. That’s all. I like it when you’re open with me.”

 

While the sentiment was touching and calmed his agitation, Jennifer was totally misguided. Derek wasn’t being open about Stiles at all. In fact, he was being entirely closed off about the younger man. Bare details, that’s all she was getting.

 

Seriously, there was not a single person Derek trusted enough to discuss last night with. Not one soul.

 

Soul. Soul mate.

 

Damn it. He really couldn’t stop thinking about it.

 

“Well then, on a different note – how come you never take off that bracelet?” Derek asked and motioned to Jennifer’s wrist despite being just a 2D computer image to her.

 

With a shrug, she said, “I don’t like my numbers and I don’t want to be judged by them. When I find true happiness, I want to find it because I found it, not because the universe told it to be so and I blindly followed its lead.” She set down her tea. “My soul mate will be mine by choice, not design. Does that bother you?”

 

“Should it?” It did, truth be told, but he didn’t want to tell her that. It was an honorable thought, a perfectly good stance, but since Derek was partially sure she was his soul mate, he’d rather be sure of it and test it out. If she wasn’t potentially _his_ soul mate, he wouldn’t care at all… but she was and so he did. Surely his soul mate would understand that and reveal their wrist, right? Should he push the idea?

 

“No, I suppose not.” Jennifer smiled and then her eyes flickered down to the clock on her screen. “Oh, sorry. I’ve got to run. There’s a meeting at work today that I’m presenting at. Wish me luck.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

And the call ended.

 

“I think she loves you and it makes me slightly ill,” Laura admitted. “I don’t like her.”

 

“What if she’s my soul mate?” Derek asked, closing the computer and setting it aside.

 

“Then the universe is weird, but I’m so glad she’s not mine.”

 

It was a good thing neither of them was driving, because Derek turned to face her on the small couch of the second bus and she instantly mirrored the action. Both Hales kept their eyes stony and their expressions impassable.

 

“What is your problem with Jennifer?” Derek asked with a grunt. After all Laura’s talk about wanting Derek to find happiness, why was she acting like this?

 

“I can’t tell if she actually likes you or just wants to sleep with you,” Laura said with a wild motion to the abandoned laptop.

 

“What if it’s both? And what’s so wrong with that?” Someone wanted to be physical with him. He hadn’t missed those signs radiating off Jennifer. But so what? Should he not want that? Wouldn’t his soul mate want that? Wouldn’t his soul mate be thinking about kissing him and touching him and keeping him for themselves?

 

‘I saw you kissing her and I got so angry.’

 

He glared at his sister, but he wasn’t seeing her.

 

“What if it’s not both!?” Laura shouted and stood. The bus hit a tiny bump and she almost toppled forward, but Derek instantly reached up to steady her, both of their glares falling away. As soon as she had her footing again, Laura returned to her seat. “I just don’t want you to invest everything in someone who might not be in it for the same reason you are.”

 

“She could be my soul mate. I met her within the time limit and she asked me on a date,” Derek pointed out calmly. “Even if she turns out wrong, wouldn’t it be wrong to ignore the possibility?”

 

With a deep frown, Laura conceded with a nod. Something more was on her tongue, but she knit her brow and then shook it away. “She’s just not what I expected for you, I suppose. You’ve never been overtly sexual and she’s… Sorry, I’ll stop. And if she is your soul mate, I’m going to be supportive. You’re my brother and I’m being insensitive. I’m sorry.”

 

“Apology accepted,” Derek said.

 

There was a weighty silence afterward where Derek entertained the idea that he was wrong, that Jennifer wasn’t his soul mate and he’d read the signs wrong. But then he just pictured a door closing in his face and he closed his eyes, sighing angrily.

 

“And if she isn’t my soul mate, I expect you to be supportive in getting a restraining order or whatever I need to get out of it,” he said, trying to joke.

 

Laura laughed sourly and leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. Her legs lifted onto the couch and she put her hand on Derek’s knee, where he quickly took it up in his own. And that’s how they sat for several minutes, just enjoying the contact.

 

“I love you,” Laura finally murmured.

 

“I love you too.”

 

He knew, no matter what happened with Jennifer, Laura would be on his side. And with Stiles… Laura really admired Stiles. What would she do if she found out about what had happened between them? What if Derek somehow hurt Stiles? He knew eventually she would just smack him upside the head and forgive him, but would she be on his side? Did Derek want her to be?

 

‘I hate you so much.’

 

But it hadn’t sounded like hate. It sounded empty. Derek remembered the desperate way Stiles had kissed him and sighed. He remembered the way all that tension in his chest had melted away under Stiles’ lips. He couldn’t stop thinking about every detail of their encounter, over and over, like a messed up version of ptsd.

 

What if he’d chosen Jennifer and he was wrong? What if he was right? What was he supposed to do now?

\-- -- -- --

 

There was no show that night, but there was an interview and a photo shoot. As soon as Derek stepped on site, he saw Stiles. The singer was perched on a sidewalk barrier, notebook balanced on his knee, pen in hand. Thankfully, he wasn’t in black today, or Derek really wouldn’t have been able to concentrate. He looked too good in black. Instead, Stiles wore a grey cotton jacket with a hood, a white t-shirt with a Captain America shield on it, old jeans, and red converse. Obviously not what he’d wear during the shoot.

 

A young black man walked up to him and Stiles raised his eyes from the paper in front of him.  On the way to looking at his new companion, Stiles spotted Derek and frowned. Derek was too far away to hear the conversation, but Stiles jumped up from his seat and quickly walked away with the black man, speaking quickly.

 

“What’s up?” Derek asked, catching Scott’s eye before nodding in the direction of the retreating teens.

 

After a brief glance in Stiles’ direction, Scott frowned. “That’s Boyd. He helps Stiles write songs, smoothes things out, you know?”

 

“And?” Derek pressed, following the assistant stage manager/crew liaison as he tried to walk away.

 

“And Stiles is having trouble coming up with anything new, and he’s supposed to start recording in a week, so he’s a little stressed out about it,” Scott said with an aggravated sigh.

 

Not knowing what to respond with, Derek just followed Scott silently. He knew singers had busy schedules. This wasn’t his first rodeo, after all. Still, perhaps the crammed schedule was keeping Stiles from being able to focus on lyrics. He had a commercial to shoot on the weekend and a concert the following night and then another meet and greet and then Derek didn’t even know because he figured Laura would fill him in as time went on, but Stiles probably had the whole thing memorized.

 

Just outside of a door marked ‘wardrobe’, Scott stopped and finally faced Derek. “You know you can’t just follow me around because Stiles is mad at you,” he said.

 

“What did you say?” Derek asked, brow knitting. Did Scott know? Had Stiles told him? They were best friends, right? So, of course, why wouldn’t he tell Scott?

 

With a shrug, Scott motioned in annoyance behind Derek, back where Stiles had been. “He asked me this morning if it was too late to end your contract. I don’t know.”

 

“Wha-“ All the air felt like it had been sucked out of Derek’s lungs. Was his family going to suffer because of his tension with Stiles?

 

“Don’t have a heart attack. I convinced him he was being stupid and irrational, but dude, what the hell? Yesterday you two had a tiny fight and now he wants to fire you? What did you do?”

 

“What did _I_ do?” Derek growled, his confusion melting into anger. “Why do you assume I did something?”

 

“Because Stiles-!” Scott started, determination loud in his voice, but then he faltered and pressed his lips together. After a muffled moment where he struggled for words, Scott frowned again. “No, actually, you could be right. I mean, I did just tell you yesterday Stiles is kind of hard to work with sometimes. You look like a serial killer, but Stiles is-…. Yeah, sorry.”

 

“Right.”

 

At the rate he was moving, Derek would have the whole crew against him by the end of the tour. Fantastic, especially considering his soul mate was most likely among the tour members.

 

Wait. He was still expecting Jennifer to be his soul mate. Great. Now he was confusing himself.

 

“Excuse me. I need to go find my team,” Derek grunted and turned away from the assistant stage manager.

 

“Derek, hold up,” Scott called to him, and Derek hesitated after only two steps. “I’ll talk to Stiles – see what’s going on. Okay?”

 

“Don’t go out of your way for my sake.” Despite the words, Derek kind of hoped Scott followed through, and while he also hoped Stiles wouldn’t give his best friend all the details, a reason why he was holding it against Derek or how Derek could fix it would be extremely helpful.

\-- -- -- --

 

Derek wasn’t present for the interview, opting to send Jordan instead, but that didn’t mean he got the day off either. Allison and her team were around, also prepping for the photo shoot, and Lydia made it very clear that she didn’t approve of Derek’s executive decision.

 

“Lydia, you seem particularly tense,” Laura noted before glancing down at the tablet she held in her hand and tapping something on the screen. Derek knew she was looking over schematics of the arena they would be playing at two days from then and absentmindedly debated doing the same thing. He was usually the first one to look over such files.

 

“Well someone decided to send away my good luck charm,” Lydia replied, not trying to hide the fact that she was talking about Derek. Her eyes even landed on him as she spoke before she pursed her lips and turned away.

 

“I thought I was your good luck charm,” Allison piped up from where she sat getting her hair done.

 

A sassy smile spread across Lydia’s lips then. “Of course you are,” she said, and Derek couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. “You’re my best friend and I love you. But Jordan-“

 

Allison laughed. “I know, Lydia. I know.” To Derek’s ears, even Allison’s laugh was quiet in comparison to Lydia. “But don’t take it out on Derek. He’s just doing his job.”

 

“Well next time he needs to do it differently,” Lydia said, turning her faux smile on Derek.

 

“Duly noted,” Derek grumbled back and checked his phone. No texts. Good.

 

“Waiting for a call?” Allison asked as her bangs were pulled back and she spotted him in the mirror.

 

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Derek met her eyes in the mirror. “No. Why?”

 

“You keep checking your phone,” she said, motioning a little but trying to keep still.

 

Lydia almost smirked as she asked, “Girlfriend problems?”

 

Doing his best not to take it personally, Derek said, “No. She texted me this morning. She’s fine.” He knew she was just angry about him splitting Jordan and her up, but he didn’t trust anyone else like he trusted Jordan and if he couldn’t watch Stiles personally, he’d prefer Jordan do it… or Laura, but she’d wanted to be here.

 

“Family problems?” Allison asked, a sympathetic tone in her voice. She knew all about disapproving parents and relatives, having chosen to leave the family business.

 

“No. Mom’s given us a wide berth on this one,” Laura jumped in, but her tone was curious. “So not girlfriend. Not Mom. So then is it St-”

 

“Hello?”

 

A new face peeked around the door, followed quickly by a tiny knock. Wrong order, but the guy got points for effort. Curly light brown hair sat unkempt over a nervous face.

 

“You’re just in time, Lahey,” the hairdresser, Tara, said in greeting. “She’s ready for you.”

 

The new guy scurried into the room and unpacked a case of make-up equipment on an open stretch of table beside Allison. In a smooth motion unexpected from his skiddish demeanor, he pulled out a set of liquid bases and held them up by Allison’s cheek.

 

“You missed the meeting, so we’re trying for a white tone first, but Stiles is in red, so you can play with that too,” Tara explained.

 

“Got it,” Lahey replied and began applying a base tone in gentle dabbing motions with a brush.

 

His entrance brought about a silence among the other four. Gossip they didn’t mind, but it seemed they each had a boundary around new people. Tara, they’d all met her and been around her before, but the new kid blending cream into Allison’s cheekbones? No one knew him.

 

Of course Allison would be the one to broach the silence and offer an olive branch to the kid. He looked nervous under the weight of the silence despite the intensity with which he worked. As he moved away to switch out make-up, Allison smiled at him.

 

“So what was your name?” she asked.

 

“Uh, Isaac,” he said and smiled back. He was kinda cute when he did that. “Lahey’s my family name.”

 

“Oh. Hi, Isaac. I’m Allison.” And she held her hand out to shake.

 

At first, Isaac seemed confused, but eventually he took her hand. They shook hands and then the rest of the group went around introducing themselves as well. After that, Isaac seemed to greatly relax, so Derek felt a little guilty about putting a tense frown back on the kid’s face.

 

“Today’s your first day? Who are you with?” Definitely not the Stilinski tour, but since Lydia and Allison hadn’t known him, he wasn’t with them either.

 

“Oh. Tara,” Isaac motioned to the hairdresser, “pulled me in last minute. Some uh, family issues kept me from joining up at the start.”

 

Looking up at the dark skinned hair dresser, Derek saw her giving him a slight warning look, like a protective mother lion. As they continued their staring contest, Tara proved to be a master, because not only did she raise one skeptical, testing eyebrow at him, but she did so while still curling Allison’s hair. Finally, Derek looked away.

 

“Welcome to the team,” he said, but by then Isaac was focused back on his task of turning Allison into a work of art.

 

The vibration in his pocket took Derek’s mind away from anything going on in the room, including Allison striking up a conversation with her make-up artist. He did his best to calmly lift the phone out and up to eye level.

 

He had a message. From Jordan. His heart beat heavy in his chest and he clicked open the message, expecting another accident to have occurred or to see that Stiles had gone behind Scott’s back and had them fired.

 

‘Stiles says to remind you that he doesn’t want to talk to you?’ Jordan’s message read.

 

Derek didn’t laugh out loud, but there was probably a grin on his face, because Stiles was a child and Jordan was confused.

 

‘Let him know the feeling is mutual,’ Derek sent back and then wondered if talking through someone else counted as talking. If avoiding someone didn’t entail not talking, he’d have asked Stiles for specifics on their new relationship status… and asked exactly what their status was.

 

After a minute had passed and Jordan hadn’t responded, Derek put the phone away again. If he kept it out, he’d probably send more messages, and Stiles didn’t want to talk. Which was fine. Because they had nothing to talk about. This was simply business.

 

Except he could remember the feeling of Stiles’ back under his hands and, damn it, maybe he did want to talk about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 8:
> 
> Derek’s not imagining it. Jennifer knows more than she should about the tour, and something new and fishy comes up that might spell trouble later. Stiles and Derek might actually be making headway with their relationship. And then later turns out to be now as an electrical problem has Stiles on his way to the hospital!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s not imagining it. Jennifer knows more than she should about the tour, and something new and fishy comes up that might spell trouble later. Stiles and Derek might actually be making headway with their relationship. And then later turns out to be now as an electrical problem has Stiles on his way to the hospital!

Two days later, Derek was about to explode. There was a show that night, so everyone was busy running around prepping and Stiles was doing sound checks and practice runs, and it was all fine and dandy, except Jennifer was upping her game and sending Derek a text every five minutes and of course all Derek could think about was Stiles and his safety.

 

It might have helped if Jennifer ever wanted to talk about anything but Stiles. Sure, she said her reasons for that topic before were because Derek ‘opened up’ when he spoke about Stiles, but that was a lie and the excuse was running so thin Derek could probably strain water through it.

 

Every time his phone went off, Laura gave him a disapproving look, and he understood. They had rules about phones on the job, and it was that phones were for emergencies only. Derek had told Jennifer, of course, but she didn’t seem to know what she was doing… or if she did, she didn’t seem to care.

 

Groaning, he pulled his phone out to look at the newest text and his wristband shifted up enough for him to see the edge of his double zeros.

 

“You alright?” Stiles speaking to him was a shock on its own. The singer had done a relatively good job of only speaking to Derek about work and even then he usually got someone else to do it. Jordan didn’t seem to recognize that Stiles was using him as a mouthpiece yet, so that was good.

 

“Fine,” Derek said and cleared his throat, trying not to sound upset. The last thing he wanted was for Stiles to think he was mad at him. “Done with practice?”

 

“Mostly, but we’re taking a fifteen.” The water in Stiles’ bottle was red and Stiles shook it rapidly. “Hey so… what do security guards do between things? Like after we wrap this up but before the concert, what do you and Laura and whoever do?”

 

“We churn butter,” Derek said, serious faced and no hint of a joke in his tone.

 

The bottle stopped moving and Stiles’ mouth dropped open and- oh good it was closed again. Derek forced his eyes up from Stiles’ lips and back to Stiles’ eyes. Slow moving lava started building up in his arms no matter how much he tried to convince it not to. Stiles’ eyes and Derek’s blood stream seemed to have a pact made up, and Derek didn’t know how to break it.

 

“Wow. Please tell me you’re joking,” Stiles said after a minute. “I mean, I assume you’re joking, but we did have a fight the other day and you stopped talking to me so-“

 

“Actually, it was you who stopped talking to me,” Derek clarified. His phone buzzed in his hand, but he didn’t look down at it.

 

Frowning, Stiles’ whole face pinched. “But- Hey, but you didn’t try to talk to me either,” he complained, and the bottle was moving again. “If you wanted to talk, you should’ve just said so.”

 

“Right. Because being told you didn’t want to talk was obviously an invitation to strike up a conversation.” Buzz. Derek clenched his fingers around his phone and tried to ignore it. If Stiles thought he could make this whole mess out to be Derek’s fault then he-

 

It wasn’t Derek’s fault. It wasn’t.

 

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll admit, maybe I should’ve dropped a few hints but-“

 

“Stiles,” Derek warned, because the lava was spreading through his chest.

 

“Look I’m trying to ask if you’re free to talk after this,” Stiles finally admitted, and really Derek should tell him no. The lava in his blood wasn’t getting any better, and it seemed determined to only grow more intense in between moments of catching sight of Stiles’ eyes. Talking could only make things worse.

 

His phone buzzed again. “Fine,” Derek grunted out harder than he meant to, but his phone was annoying him. “Sorry. I need to check my phone.”

 

“Right.” And Stiles finally opened his water and started to drink the weird koolaid or tea or whatever it was he had mixed in. “Girlfriend?”

 

“Girlfriend,” Derek grunted and then hated how much it sounded like he regretted the word. “Sit down and rest. We’ll talk after.”

 

“We will,” Stiles agreed and shuffled off to find a chair.

 

Derek waited until Stiles was firmly seated and Scott was standing by him, handing him some kind of snack bar, before he finally looked down at his phone. Jennifer’s name was all over the preview screen, and Derek sighed as he opened her conversation.

 

There was a How are you? message and I miss you! and then she asked how things were on set, but it was her last message that really stood out.

 

“Has Stiles ever talked to you about his ex?” she asked.

 

After only a moment’s hesitation, Derek hit the call button and raised the phone to his ear.

 

“Derek?” Jennifer answered with.

 

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked. Stiles didn’t have an ex. He’d asked Laura specifically. She’d been certain.

 

“It’s been circulating for awhile now. There’s evidence that Stiles actually had a significant other a few years ago, and I just-,” but Derek didn’t let her finish.

 

“Am I just a source to you?” he asked, and he must have said it louder than he intended, because Stiles sat a little straighter in his chair… but he was much too far away to understand Derek’s words.

 

“What? Why would you think that?” Jennifer defended, and Derek could imagine the way her nose would crinkle just a bit, because she always got that way when he started doubting their relationship.

 

“Because you’re always asking about Stiles and the show and things you shouldn’t know about. Because you’re a reporter,” Derek grunted.

 

“Whatever people have been telling you, Derek, you can’t believe them.” She sounded so sincere, so gentle. “They’re just jealous that you might be finding The One.”

 

“And have I?” Derek asked. He glanced over toward Scott and Stiles. Scott was kneeling in front of his friend and they were motioning over the stage, discussing something about the show. “This is the first time you’ve ever brought it up… Usually I do. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

 

“Me either.” Jennifer took a deep breath. “Derek-”

 

“You’re lying.”

 

If Jennifer was like Derek, she wouldn’t be able to discuss work and ask detailed questions about life on set with the Stilinski tour. She’d be bringing up soul mates in every other conversation – wondering what it was like for people who got engaged to the ‘wrong’ people who discovered their soul mates later. She’d send him texts at midnight asking if soul mates ever craved food because their soul mate was eating it. Derek knew she would, because those were the kinds of thoughts that woke him up in the middle of the night when he was suddenly craving yogurt… and he hated yogurt.

 

But she never did.

 

“Jennifer, what are you working on right now? Professionally or personally. What’s the story?” Derek asked, trying to calm his voice.

 

“I-… I’m working on a piece about fame running in families. I figured Kardasians, Jacksons, Stilinskis, that sort of thing.” She started to rant about it, making it sound very in depth and detailed, but it sounded empty too, like a college student trying to explain to their professor what their paper was about despite not having done the research for it yet.

 

“Stop.” Derek ran a hand over his face. “Just stop. If you’ve been using me to get intel on Stiles, just admit to it. Don’t make up an article that doesn’t exist.”

 

“Derek. Believe me. Whoever told you-“

 

“No one told me,” Derek snapped too loudly and then ran an angry hand over his face to iron out the glare from his forehead. “Listen. I don’t want to be mad at you. Maybe we should… take a break.”

 

“You want to break up? Over a misunderstanding?” Jennifer asked.

 

“Yes.” Being blunt had always been a strength of Derek’s. “And if you were really my soul mate, you’d understand.”

 

For a long moment, Derek thought Jennifer had hung up on him, and he pulled the phone away to check it was still clocking call time. When he put it back to his ear, she started talking again, her voice tight but verging on upset. He couldn’t tell if that ‘upset’ was angry or sad, but it was there.

 

“Okay. I understand,” she said. “You need time to trust me, and if leaving you alone gains that trust, I’ll do it. So… Call me when you think you’re ready for a serious relationship.”

 

And then the line went silent again. Derek didn’t need to check to know the call had ended. Slowly, he pulled the phone from his ear and slipped it into his pocket. His second relationship and he’d broken it off. Damn it. That was the right thing to do, right? He hadn’t been imagining her obsession with news of bad things happening on set, right? Her silent disregard for how Derek was actually feeling? He hadn’t been making it up. Even Laura…

 

He shouldn’t doubt himself, but he did. He probably shouldn’t feel bad, but he did that too.

 

“Copy Derek?” he heard over his ear piece and he cleared his throat before responding.

 

“Go for Derek.”

 

“Meet me by the stage door.” It was Jordan. “At your earliest convenience.”

 

The wording was meant to suggest it wasn’t urgent, but Derek knew Jordan, and that’s not how Jordan asked you to come if it wasn’t urgent. That was actually Jordan speak for ‘get over here asap’. A voice over the speakers called Stiles back to the stage so they could work on getting the proper lighting prepped, and Derek caught the singer looking his way before they both turned and walked in opposite directions.

 

Jordan was by the exit door at the back of the building, door propped open and him squinting in the sun. Scott had said Derek should be a model, but he should be suggesting that career path to Jordan Parrish, honestly. The young security officer looked prepped and ready for camera as he leaned on the door jam, waiting for Derek.

 

“What’s up?” Derek asked and Jordan quickly stood up straight.

 

“Take a look,” he said.

 

One motion led Derek’s eyes to the scratches around the lock on the door. Normally this would be cause for a security camera search, but in this case it just raised questions. The door was locked with a deadbolt and door lock. Just picking the lock wouldn’t get you in. So why bother trying?

 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Derek said with a grunt.

 

“Right?” Jordan nodded and then motioned just outside the door. “And this is questionable too.” Outside the door was a pack of matches and a zippo with a wolf design etched into it. “Like… picking a lock and lighting matches with a lighter? What’s the end game?”

 

“I’d rather not figure it out. We’ll have someone watch the door for anymore attempts to break in. Stay here for a few minutes and I’ll go find someone to relieve you. But let’s keep this quiet. So far it doesn’t look too dangerous, and we don’t need to cause an already stressful situation to get worse,” Derek said, thinking of the way Stiles couldn’t breathe that first day and Scott’s exclamation about stress.

 

“Of course. Why do you think I called you over the way I did?” Jordan asked and lifted his lips in a way that could almost be a smirk… if Jordan Parrish was the smirking kind.

 

After a friendly clap on the shoulder, Derek left the slightly younger man on his own and went to find a replacement for him. Jordan was too useful to be guarding the back door, which was only proven by the fact that he’d even found the problem to begin with.

 

He was almost back to the main stage when Laura’s voice cut over the radio.

 

“Someone get a med kit to the stage, Now! We need burn ointment!”

 

Feeling his heart in his stomach, Derek took off at a run. As he got closer, he heard lots of people shouting, and then he saw two men putting out a small fire by the sound board. Twenty feet away, a small group of people had huddled around someone on the ground, and Derek knew who it was without seeing.

 

Gritting his teeth, Derek walked over to a table that used to be covered in water bottles for the crew but which now only held five. He snatched up two and walked quickly over to the group.

 

“Move!” he half shouted and several stagehands scattered from the scene. Stiles was propped up against Scott, clutching his right arm to his chest. For a split second, Derek thought Stiles’ health condition had flared up, but then he saw the angry red burn on Stiles’ right hand.

 

“Derek, did you bring a med kit?” Laura asked. She sounded frightened, and later he’d ask what had caused the situation that spooked her and injured Stiles and caused a damn fire at the sound board, but for now he had bigger problems.

 

“No. Give me your hand,” Derek ordered, holding his own hand out.

 

“Dude, what?” Scott exclaimed, but Derek wasn’t looking at Scott or at Laura.

 

His eyes were on Stiles’ face, and though Stiles was shaking and biting his lip, he barely looked into Derek’s eyes for more than two seconds before he was throwing his hand forward into Derek’s. With his free hand, Derek opened a water bottle and then locked gazes with Stiles again.

 

“This is gonna sting at first,” he warned.

 

“Oh my God, just do it,” Stiles said and hissed at the end, because he was in pain and not because he was angry.

 

So Derek stopped hesitating and started pouring the water over Stiles’ hand. The burn ran across the base of his fingers and between his thumb and forefinger, and while Stiles’ hissing sounded bad, the color of the burn told Derek it wasn’t serious. If Derek was right, there’d be no muscle damage or loss of movement.

 

“Did the microphone do this to you?” he asked, judging by the path of the burn. Then, as an afterthought, he turned to Laura and asked calmly, “Can you bring me the rest of the water?”

 

She nodded and left as Stiles nodded and said, “Y-Yeah. We were doing one last sound check and then everything went crazy high pitched. Like dog whissssss… Damn it. Like a dog whistle.”

 

The first water bottle had run empty. Stiles tried to move his fingers, but it only made him wince and grunt. Derek glared at him while opening the second bottle, and Stiles gave a teasing smile in return. As soon as the water started rolling over his hand again, Stiles relaxed.

 

“We don’t know what happened,” Scott continued. “One second, everything was perfect. The next, the sound board short circuits and there’s fire, and the microphone like… I don’t know how else to explain it. It just blew.”

 

He motioned toward the stage, where the remnants of Stiles’ microphone lay under the bright lights. The base and the head were completely separated, and the base was cracked in four places. How in the hell-? Derek only stopped looking at it because Laura was back with the water.

 

“Thanks,” he grunted and she just nodded as she opened the next one.

 

“The force knocked Stiles over,” Scott finished.

 

“The force didn’t do shit,” Stiles argued gently and shifted to sit up on his own, keeping his hand as still as possible. “It was the shock.”

 

“Yeah, well whatever it was, you’re gonna have to go to the hospital,” Derek said as he switched to take Laura’s prepped bottle. The empty bottles were discarded carelessly beside him. When Stiles looked affronted, Derek was not moved. “Electrical burns can be bad news. You’re not even supposed to cool them down before you see a doctor if it’s too serious.”

 

“And yet you’re pouring water on mine,” Stiles said, frowning.

 

“Yours isn’t serious. But a trip to the hospital will get you the burn cream, bandages, and whatever else you’ll need to get this healed quick. Can’t imagine you’ll want your hand to burn throughout the whole concert… under all those hot lights.” And the look Derek gave Stiles then could only be called a challenge.

 

Barely a heartbeat passed before Stiles moved from frowning to full on pouting, and he turned his head away from Derek. “Fine. But if I gotta go to the hospital, then you gotta suffer with me. ”

 

“What?” Derek really didn’t like hospitals. Really really didn’t-

 

“He’s right, Derek,” Laura said – the traitor. “Someone needs to go with him. You should go.”

 

A local stage hand ran up then to offer a fully stocked first aid kit, but all Derek took from it was the gauze and bandages. Silently, he rolled up Stiles’ hand, trying to figure a way out of going to sterile hell. When he was done, he looked up at Stiles, completely prepared to say he needed to help Jordan with an issue with the door, but Stiles’ frown had turned disappointed, his eyebrows pulled slightly together, and Derek could only sigh.

 

“Fine,” he agreed, and Laura called for someone to go get a car.

 

Fine was right. Not yes or of course, but fine. Fine, because Stiles looked like he really wanted Derek to go… and besides, he and Stiles had a date anyway. To talk, not to date.

 

Derek couldn’t wait for his hormones to stop giving him migraines.

\-- -- -- -- --

 

The hospital was sterile and hellish, just as Derek remembered it. It didn’t matter that the walls were half cream or there were pleasant paintings on the walls or that this hospital was thousands of miles from the last one Derek had been in. It was still hell and it was still the same.

 

“You alright, dude?” Stiles asked, sitting in the exam room and waiting for the doctor.

 

They’d already been seen by the nurse, so all they really needed now was the doctor to write them the official prescription and maybe the nurse would come back and re-bandage the injury. Stiles was pretty calm, not even hissing anymore. Sometimes he twitched, so Derek knew he was still in pain, but he was generally normal.

 

“I’m fine,” Derek grunted.

 

“You’ve sort of not been fine since we got in the car to come here,” Stiles argued back. “Like wow, you must really hate hospitals.”

 

“Yeah I really must.” And he said it bluntly, trying to end the conversation, but it was so true, and judging by Stiles’ face, he could tell.

 

Thankfully, before Stiles could question him about his distaste for health centers, the doctor walked in.

 

“You were lucky, Mr. Stilinski,” he said, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand. “Electrical burns can be quite a serious matter. I see first aid was administered on site. Another lucky thing for you. Which of your crew knew how to tend a burn?”

 

“Him,” Stiles said, pointing with his uninjured hand, and Derek’s back straightened.

 

“See a lot of electrical burns, Mr…?” the doctor prompted.

 

“Hale. And my uncle once was involved in an incident. He got minor burns.” And some people got worse, but he didn’t voice that out loud.

 

“Good. You might be familiar with the long term treatment then. I’m prescribing an antibiotic ointment to prevent infection. Apply it twice a day with new bandages,” the doctor said and signed off on a piece of paper on his clipboard.

 

He handed the prescription to Derek instead of Stiles, and Stiles licked his lips in a way that seemed somehow agitated and confused at the same time. Derek didn’t blame him. Being handed someone’s medicine made him feel like a father instead of a friend… bodyguard. They were terrible friends.

 

“However, if you have any aloe, you can apply that as often as you’d like, but it needs to be pure aloe. After the first day, the aloe will work as well as the ointment or it could even be more effective. But try it lightly first. Some people have skin irritation when using aloe.”

 

“Good to know,” Stiles quipped and stood up. “So is that it?”

 

“Yes. Nothing much else we can do for you, Mr. Stilinski.” The doctor held out a hand to shake before remembering it was Stiles’ dominant hand that was injured. He quickly switched hands and Stiles smiled as he shook it. “You’re good to go. Since you probably won’t be in town much longer, if you have any complications with your burn, find a doctor wherever you are. If they have any questions, they can call me.” And then he handed Derek his business card.

 

After that, Stiles was given a shot that was more pain killer than anything else, and the nurse applied an antibiotic ointment to his burn and then wrapped his hand in new bandages. Five minutes later and Derek was stopped at a red light, his resting bitch face aimed at the traffic signal that kept him from getting back to his sister.

 

“So,” Stiles said and cleared his throat. “You sounded pretty upset on the phone earlier.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Groaning, Stiles shifted to aim his body at Derek’s. “Oh come on, can we just stop this already? I’m- I’m trying here, alright? And you’re shutting down every conversation I try to start. It’s super unhelpful.”

 

“I hate hospitals and yes I was upset on the phone,” Derek growled out and then tried to remind himself that none of this was Stiles’ fault.

 

Except maybe it was… a little… only Stiles didn’t know it was. The light turned green.

 

“Okay. So on the phone…,” Stiles paused, nibbled his lip, and shrugged. “How did your uncle get burned?”

 

Good topic shift. “He was working a job about eight years ago. Not for a singer. This was for a sort of up-and-coming musicians showcase. On the final day of competition, it rained really hard and the stage and everything was drenched. Someone tried to suggest they delay the proceedings until the area could be checked for hazards.”

 

Derek paused and clenched the steering wheel. He didn’t like talking about that day, even if he was being vague about his own involvement. But right now he preferred this topic over his breakup.

 

“But my uncle disagreed, and so did the director of the event. So things continued. But some of the electrical wiring had been damaged in the storm, and mid-show a cable snapped and electrocuted the stage. My uncle was a little too close to the fire that flared up.”

 

He did his best to keep his voice neutral, emotionless, as he spoke, but Stiles was far too quiet afterward, so he was pretty sure he failed.

 

“Oh my God,” he murmured after a tense minute. “What about the performers?”

 

“There was only one on the stage when it happened.  Paige. She was displaying a solo talent… with a cello,” Derek explained, and he almost missed getting into the next turn lane.

 

“And?” Stiles prompted.

 

“And she died.” His fingers relaxed on the wheel. He’d only told his mother about this before. Most people didn’t even know Derek had been present for the event, so no one bothered him about it. But Scott knew.

 

“Sorry,” Stiles said and Derek glanced curiously over at him. Before Derek could ask what he was apologizing for, Stiles continued. “Sounds like you knew her. Plus you had to take care of your uncle afterward…. Plus now you’re taking care of me. Listen, I’m totally cool with being dropped like a bag of moldy cheese if treating a burn reminds you of that job too much.”

 

“Stiles, shut up,” Derek said, but he felt his lips twitch.

 

“Alright. Sharing times is over. I follow. Sharing’s not caring. Zipping my lip. Shutting up right now. Like right now.” And the singer mimed zipping his mouth and throwing the key like a major league baseball pitcher. Derek couldn’t help the way he almost laughed, a snigger escaping despite himself, and he didn’t miss the way Stiles smiled at him afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 9:
> 
> Derek is on “Stiles patch-up” Duty, which leads to some very close conversations. When he starts to wonder if Stiles could be his true soul mate, Derek finds himself increasingly curious about the singer’s hidden numbers. During their talks, Derek finds a lot of his tensions ease, but maybe the same isn’t true for Stiles?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is on “Stiles patch-up” Duty, which leads to some very close conversations. When he starts to wonder if Stiles could be his true soul mate, Derek finds himself increasingly curious about the singer’s hidden numbers. During their talks, Derek finds a lot of his tensions ease, but maybe the same isn’t true for Stiles?

Chapter 9

 

The burn on Stiles’ hand didn’t stop him from performing during the concert. Mostly he just switched to dramatically grabbing the microphone with his left hand instead of his right. And honestly the biggest issue before the concert was getting the new soundboard hooked up.

 

Only one part of the performance had to be altered to accommodate Stiles’ injury, and that was the one song Stiles played as well as sang. With his hand out of commission, his band guitarist had to fill in. It was less personal, but Stiles preferred it over the option of taking the song out altogether.

 

In the end, the concert proceeded as normal as it could, and in the morning, the tabloids would have plenty of photos of Stiles’ bandaged hand and news of the injury would be the hot topic of the day.

 

But for now, Derek sat on the tour bus with Stiles, alone. Jordan was guarding the bus outside, with Lydia standing by him. Despite working together, they got very little alone time, which Lydia blamed on Derek and Jordan blamed on a job well done. So Derek didn’t mind them hanging out together… so long as she didn’t drag Jordan away from his post.

 

On the bus, Derek unwrapped Stiles’ hand, which was still a brilliant red. The singer bit his cheek to keep in any hisses and just nodded stubbornly when Derek looked up at him to check how he was doing. The heat of the stage lights had not been helpful, but Stiles had refused to cancel to show. So now they were replacing his sweaty bandages and cleaning the wound after only six hours.

 

“Melissa called you stubborn,” Derek mumbled as he carefully cleaned the swollen skin.

 

“Y-Yeah. She minored in medicine in college. Almost became a nurse, but then this job came up and her life changed,” Stiles explained and then pursed his lips against pain. “It still pops up in conversation though. If she’d been around when it happened instead of you, it’d be her here dressing the wound and not you.”

 

“She’d probably do a better job,” Derek remarked off-handedly as he put down the wash cloth and started reapplying the ointment.

 

“Nah. Don’t be silly. You’re doing awesome.”

 

“Stiles.” Derek paused his movement and looked up into Stiles’ eyes. “I thought continuing with the concert was…” He paused, considering his word choice.

 

“Reckless? Stupid? Naïve?” Stiles offered helpfully and Derek smirked before he shook his head and returned to work.

 

“Cool.”

 

His whole face felt hot after he said it, and he concentrated on finishing the ointment. He shifted away to grab the fresh bandages and Stiles sucked in a sharp breath. It didn’t quite sound like pain, but it was loud enough that Derek ignored the bandages to look back.

 

“You alright?” he asked.

 

Stiles’ eyes were slightly wide and he tried to flex his fingers, but then his face went tight with pain from the burn. When he relaxed his fingers, his face relaxed as well, and then he frowned.

 

“Derek,” he started, voice tight. “This is gonna sound really really stupid because it didn’t work out well last time, but-,“ he bent forward slightly, his free hand covering his stomach, “can I kiss you?”

 

“What?”

 

“For science. Please.”

 

At first, Derek thought it was a joke, but Stiles didn’t look like he was joking. He didn’t sound like it either. In fact, he sounded a little strange. His caramel eyes were intensely locked on Derek’s, and his knee bounced slightly as he waited for an answer.

 

Really, the only answer Derek should logically have is ‘no’, but he remembered their last kiss. And he could still feel the way that burning lava felt coursing through him. Even now, it tried to spread. Really, there was only one answer he could ever give to such an earnest request from Stiles.

 

“Just one?” he asked.

 

“Unless you beg for more,” Stiles replied, and it was said with every seriousness, but then Stiles let one side of his mouth twitch up in a smile, and Derek was relieved to see the joke.

 

“Just one,” he said and loosened his grip on Stiles’ wrist.

 

Scooting closer, Stiles set his forearm on Derek’s shoulder, his exposed burn facing the roof behind Derek’s head. He moved slowly, waiting for Derek to push him away, but then rushed the last inch and slammed his mouth against Derek’s. Pain. For a brief moment, Derek thought he felt pain, but then it was gone as quickly as it had started.

 

Stiles’ lips were just as soft as he remembered, and one kiss turned into a second and then Derek’s hand was cupping the back of Stiles’ neck, and there was a third. A fourth. This time, Stiles stopped them by chuckling. He kept his forehead against Derek’s and laughed quietly.

 

“What?” Derek asked. He felt light headed and relieved, and he didn’t know why. He had been thinking of kissing Stiles, dreaming about it, sure. But to feel this kind of relief? It almost made him want to laugh like Stiles, except he didn’t understand it.

 

“It-,” Stiles began and then stopped. He sighed, but he was smiling as he pulled away and offered his hand back to Derek to resume their purpose for being there.

 

Derek took the hand in his and raised a questioning eyebrow at Stiles, but the singer just shook his head, that stupid grin still on his face. Hesitantly, Derek took up the new bandages and started to rewrap Stiles’ hand.

 

“This might sting,” Derek said. “What did science say?”

 

The smile turned into a smirk as Stiles said, “It doesn’t hurt.”

 

With a snort, Derek finished wrapping the bandage and scooted back. “Alright, I get it. Sharing’s not caring, right?”

 

“Something like that. So did you really think I was cool?” Stiles asked and slowly pulled his hand protectively against his chest.

 

Derek shrugged and packed up the small med kit. “Yeah. It must have made your hand hurt, but you’re dedicated. This isn’t some game to you. This is your job, your life. Going on stage like that – it’s admirable.”

 

“Well for the record – jumping in the way of falling stage lights to save people is pretty admirable too,” Stiles said and winked when Derek looked over at him. “Hey, I’m just sayin. You could have been crushed too.”

 

At first, Derek was going to reply with the knee-jerk reaction of “It’s my job,” but then he realized that was the point. They were both dedicated. They were both hard workers. An injury like a small burn wasn’t going to stop either of them from continuing to do their jobs to full extent of their ability.

 

Stiles’ hand- Derek pressed his lips together momentarily, noting the way the bandages on Stiles’ hand almost connected to the bandages on Stiles’ wrist.

 

“Can I ask a personal question?” Derek asked. Stiles had followed his gaze already and nodded, tight lipped. “Do you ever… I mean, do you know how long until you meet your soul mate? I was just thinking that it must be hard for you. You meet so many people every day.”

 

“No.”

 

Stiles shrugged when Derek looked up at his face instead of at his wrist.

 

“No?”

 

“I have no idea,” Stiles amended and crossed his arms behind his head, careful not to hit his hand. “Next you’re going to ask why I don’t just check, and I’ll say I never take the wristbands off, even when I don’t have the wrapping on. Then you’ll ask if I wear them in the shower, and listen. I just don’t look at my wrist, alright? I gave up on true love when I got famous.”

 

“Gave up?” Derek’s brow knit together.

 

Another shrug. “I don’t know, dude. In this business, everyone’s always telling you they love you. People you don’t even know, you know? And everything gets confusing. I figure… if I’m gonna meet the right person, we’ll pick each other because we love each other, right? Not because we were looking for each other.”

 

It was so similar to what Jennifer had said, about not letting the universe dictate who you loved, and yet it was more personal. Stiles didn’t involve the universe. It was just him and the other person. The way it should be.

 

Derek didn’t realize they were having a staring contest until someone knocked on the bus door.

 

“Yeah?” he called out, not looking away from Stiles, who lowered his arms to his lap.

 

“Breakdown is done,” Jordan called out, opening the door. “Stiles ready to go?”

 

“Stiles ready to go!” Stiles shouted enthusiastically back, and Derek shook his head in fond resignation.

 

Jordan laughed. “Copy that.”

 

When the door shut again, Stiles bounced in his seat. “Hey, before you go, I wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting. That’s what I originally wanted to talk about earlier. I’m not usually this big of a dick. I’ve been having mood swings recently. Trouble sleeping. Melissa’s stumped. But whatever it was, my hormones seem to be back on track now, so I was hoping maybe we could try to… forgive and forget?”

 

Hormones? That was his excuse? He was out of puberty by this point.

 

“Consider all your rudeness forgotten. But I won’t say the same for whatever you do starting tomorrow,” Derek said as he stood.

 

“Hey now,” Stiles whined, but he didn’t look upset.

 

With a nod of his head, Derek marked the end of the conversation. “Good night, Stiles.”

 

“Sleep tight, Derek.”

 

And Derek left the bus. Melissa pat him on the shoulder as she passed to get on board and thanked him quietly. Scott nodded at him. Lydia smiled in a way that dared him to take Jordan away, but Derek just smiled painfully back, still unable to handle her, and walked off to let them stay and guard.

 

Then he was on the next bus and taking a seat by Laura, busy at work on her tablet. Letting her work, Derek leaned back against the windowsill and let out a heavy breath to relax himself. Speaking of hormones, his should be calming down any day now. At most, he had another week of this emotional rollercoaster.

 

A week. Derek frowned. He’d broken up with Jennifer with a week left in his window to meet his soul mate. Resisting the urge to groan, he ran his hand over his face. What if he’d missed his chance? What if he-

 

Derek paused with his fingers over his eyes and then pulled his hand away entirely. Glancing out the window, he could make out the tail lights of the bus Stiles was on. Was it possible? He’d met Stiles within the allotted window, hadn’t he? But all they currently had was physical attraction. Wouldn’t being soul mates require more than that? And was he even really considering this?

 

Could Stiles be his soul mate?

\-- -- -- --

 

Someone had decided Derek was on official “Stiles Patch-Up” duty, because every time the bandages on Stiles’ hand needed to be redone, someone motioned for Derek to do it. Part of Derek understood. He was always around Stiles when the time came, and he did seem to possess more experience dressing injuries than the rest of the immediate group, but didn’t they have a first aid staff member at the concert locations? Didn’t Melissa have far more training?

 

But he didn’t complain. While Derek cleaned the wound, Stiles would talk to fill the silence. What he had for breakfast that morning at the hotel, the problem with the costumes for the concert, really anything but nothing at the same time. Derek had never been a fan of small talk, but for some reason none of Stiles’ ranting felt like small talk.

 

It wasn’t “Hey, great weather we’re having, isn’t it?” It was “Okay, but strawberries are supposed to be sweet, but not this sweet. It was like biting into a sugar berry! Oh! Oh, but the pancake was in the shape of a heart, so that kind of made up for it. Who makes heart pancakes? This chef did. He went above and beyond the call of duty to make up for those strawberries.” And that was different.

 

And Stiles sometimes required Derek to add to the conversation. The third time Derek sat down to redo the wrapping, the topic was wardrobe again.

 

“So you know the jacket I wear during the second set?” Stiles asked, tilting his head to get a different perspective on his hand. Derek grunted. “It’s a bit tight. I don’t know if you can tell if you’re not wearing it, but it’s leather and it grabs you… especially after sweating during the first set. Like… come to think of it, I’ve never seen you wear a jacket. Do you like leather jackets or are you, like, a denim guy?”

 

“I have two leather jackets,” Derek replied, finishing the bandage.

 

“That’s great. You should wear one sometime. I mean, it’s gonna be colder the farther north we head, so you might need even more than that,” Stiles said.

 

“Okay, okay,” Derek agreed with a soft laugh and packed up to first aid kit. Stiles got up and started pulling on a different jacket, a plain cotton hoodie, and Derek found his eyes catching sight of the wrapping on Stiles’ wrist before it was hidden in the sleeves.

 

He should ask. Stiles wasn’t Jennifer, but just like her, he had no idea how Stiles would react to Derek asking to press their wrists together. Stiles never took off his wristband and binding. It felt like asking Stiles to do so for Derek held the importance of asking Stiles to move in together. But maybe… if he posed the idea that they might be….

 

But of course they might not be. Derek definitely liked kissing Stiles and he wasn’t opposed to the singer’s company, but they still barely knew each other, and they could be one misunderstanding from another fight.

 

Derek just had to fight his crazy hormones and think logically about this before he did anything stupid.

 

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles asked, kneeling by his bag in the break room. Derek couldn’t see his face, but he took the time to admire the cut of Stiles’ hair, the shape of his shoulders.

 

“Yeah?”

 

With a quick tug, Stiles pulled the hood up over his head. “You still dating that reporter?”

 

“No.” In fact, Jennifer hadn’t tried to text him or call him or anything since that phone call the previous morning. At least she wasn’t a stalker ex, right? But part of Derek worried about the silence.

 

“What happened?” Stiles had his hands in his bag, but whatever he was looking for couldn’t possibly be in there, because the bag wasn’t that big and yet Stiles kept moving everything around over and over again as though something new would show up.

 

“Apparently I’m not ready for a serious relationship,” Derek said, quoting Jennifer. Stiles turned then, the strings from his hoodie dangling down his chest. “No, we just had a conflict of interest.”

 

With a sour scoff, Stiles shook his head. “Wow that answer was diplomatic and super vague.”

 

Derek shrugged. “Too bad. That’s the answer.”

 

“It’s just that… well Scott said you thought she might be your soul mate,” and as he said that, Stiles rubbed his right forearm. “You seem pretty serious about your soul mate.”

 

“I don’t think she was it for me,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. “When she touched me, I always got these pleasant… feelings on my skin, but we never talked about anything, really. It was like she was never actually there for me, like she wanted something else.”

 

Uncharacteristically, Stiles didn’t say anything. He stayed knelt down, hood up, and eyes on the floor. His brow knit every second or so, and Derek liked the intense look on his face, but he also wondered what Stiles was thinking so intently about.

 

“Don’t worry,” he said, garnering the singer’s attention. “About the soul mate thing. She’s not the only person I met this month. I’ve got other options.”

 

Stiles pressed his lips together. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good.” Stiles pushed his hood down and stood up empty handed before clearing his throat. “I hope they’re good options, because with your personality-“

 

“Yeah. I know,” Derek interrupted. And he was smiling, because his chest felt warm, but not like with Jennifer. It was like the lava inside him had calmed but not gone away, and it was more than bearable. It was almost… pleasant. He knew the cause for the change. It was because he was thinking of Stiles as his soul mate instead of as an annoying mystery.

 

Usually Stiles would smile back and make a crack, but something in the conversation must have made him uneasy, because his smile was weak. “I gotta get to the studio,” he said quickly and excused himself.

 

The lava cooled in Derek’s veins. Had he done something wrong? Just yesterday, Stiles would have rejoiced at the news of Derek’s break up, made a couple jokes, and probably flirted with him. But today? He seemed distracted and serious. Biting his cheek, Derek took a minute in the silence of the room to go back over everything he’d said. Nothing stood out as negative or insulting.

 

So why was Stiles so distant?

\-- -- -- --

 

Derek expected to go over rules and stuff with the next set of locals for the rest of the afternoon, but halfway through explaining emergency keywords, Laura interrupted and called him from the room. His temporary students seemed relieved and glad to be rid of him, but Derek would find them later.

 

“What’s so important, Laura?” he asked as she walked him into a dressing room.

 

“Something you have to hear for yourself. I didn’t want to risk saying it on the radio or sending it via text,” she said and motioned to where Lydia, Allison, and the make-up guy, Isaac, were sitting pow wow style on the floor, except Lydia who had a bean bag chair.

 

“There’s no need to cause a stir without evidence,” Lydia added with a knowing nod of her head.

 

Crossing his arms, Derek waited for someone to explain, but no one offered up anything right away. Allison looked uneasy, and Isaac hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder as though whatever news they had was something she needed support to announce.

 

“What?” he asked sharply.

 

“Well Isaac was doing my make-up earlier and he mentioned the trouble we’ve been having. He asked if it was true that Stiles’ microphone exploded. I hadn’t heard that part, so I asked him to explain but he didn’t know. So we called Laura over and she told us everything. And I… I think I know what caused it,” Allison said, nodding resolutely as she finished. When she looked up at Derek, there was no fear in her eyes. “More importantly, I’m sure I know who did it.”

 

“Who? You’re saying it was sabotaged?” Derek asked, dropping his arms.

 

“Yes. And if we still have the pieces of the mic, I can prove it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 10:
> 
> Derek accompanies Stiles to a signing event where a surprising fan conjures up more than a little jealousy in him. Continuing his odd behavior, Stiles actually gives Derek more evidence that they’re probably soul mates, but by the end of the night it seems even that won’t matter anymore. This may be the end of their relationship altogether when a homicidal car gets involved.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek accompanies Stiles to a signing event where a surprising fan conjures up more than a little jealousy in him. Continuing his odd behavior, Stiles actually gives Derek more evidence that they’re probably soul mates, but by the end of the night it seems even that won’t matter anymore. This may be the end of their relationship altogether when a homicidal car gets involved.

Chapter 10

 

Allison commandeered the tech guys who’d cleaned up from the mic explosion and sent them scouring the area as they tried to remember which trashcan they’d thrown the baggy of microphone bits in. It only took them a god awful twenty minutes to find the damn thing. Then Allison requested two of them to help her sort through the pieces to determine what was part of the original microphone and what may have been added after the traditional production line.

 

Unfortunately, Derek couldn’t stick around for this fascinating bit of detective work. Despite Stiles’ stand-off attitude during their last talk, the singer had requested Derek be on his detail for a meet and greet.

 

It was a late gig, starting at seven p.m. and going until the line was gone or until they cut it off at ten. When they arrived, the line was already out the door of the music store, which seemed to both excite and tire Stiles out at the same time. At a glance, Derek could already see some interesting fans were in attendance. This time when Stiles went on a rant about all the people he met, Derek would be the one he asked to back him up instead of being part of the audience of listeners, and Derek was pretty okay with that.

 

Their group entered through the receiving door instead of the front entrance and an employee handed Stiles a large frappe – something involving chocolate, it seemed – much to the singer’s delight. Melissa was there, debriefing the employees on rules. An alert had been sent ahead of time so all employees working would understand how the event would go down, but at least one of them obviously hadn’t read it.

 

While Melissa worried about details and deadlines, Derek worried about much more dangerous things.

 

“You look intense. What’s got you so worked up?” Styles asked, sipping his drink.

 

“Guns,” Derek answered and Stiles nearly choked. “Weapons of any kind. I’m worried about pens, Stiles. It’s my job.”

 

“You really think someone’s going to try and stab me with a pen?” Stiles asked, incredulous. “Dude, that is awesome!” When Derek glared at him, the smile instantly fled from Stiles’ face. “I mean in a totally not awesome way. That would be terrible.” And in a tinier voice he added, “Obviously.”

 

“Well it’s not going to happen. That’s why I’m here.” Derek folded his arms behind his back and tried not to find Stiles’ optimism too attractive. He didn’t want to enjoy it only to find it switch to another cold shoulder.

 

“Right. But if it did happen, you’d beat the guy who did it to death for me, wouldn’t you? And then, of course, take me to the hospital. But you’d avenge me, right?” Stiles asked.

 

Melissa came to usher Stiles to his signing table then, so all Derek did was raise his eyebrow curiously in response to the question.  As he was pulled away, Stiles called out “Avenge me!” and Melissa muttered “I don’t even wanna know” under her breath, but then they were out the door and the front of the line sort of shrieked in excitement.

 

Derek followed soon after and stood behind Stiles through the whole event. There were fans as young as six with disinterested parents and fans as old as sixty, who became flustered when Stiles called them young as well. Stiles was a pro. He was friendly with everyone, but professional too. He was efficient and yet fun. He flipped between different colored pens and markers depending on what he was signing with the skill of an artist, and everyone left the table with smiles on their faces.

 

Impressed did not begin to describe what Derek was feeling. Relieved did, however, as more and more people left and the line got shorter and no signs of any weapons or foul play presented themselves.

 

A busty young woman started winking at Derek as soon as she was within his range of notice, and she seemed pleased about it, but she wouldn’t have been if she knew it made her a target of suspicion. Her outfit was provocative but Derek wouldn’t call it slutty. Skirt at mid-thigh, v-neck top that dipped so low you could see the connecting band of her bra, but it covered everything else – she definitely knew the game she was playing.

 

Stiles didn’t pay her much mind when she first walked up to the table and handed him a photo to sign, but he hesitated putting his pen to the page. His forehead creased and then he snapped his head up to see who had handed him the photo.

 

“Hey there, Cutie,” she greeted, leaning forward over the table toward him.

 

Derek’s pulse pounded hard in his veins. Her proximity was a red flag. Her flirtations were a red flag. Her intentions were unclear. She was a potential threat. He took a half step forward to ask her to stand back, but before he could even open his mouth, Stiles was laughing.

 

“Erica!” he shouted, standing and leaning over the table to embrace her. Derek retreated his half step, stunned, and Erica smirked at him over Stiles’ shoulder. “You should have told me you were coming!”

 

“Maybe, but this was far more fun,” she said as they broke away. “Now sign my photo of you from last Halloween so I can sell it on the black market of celebrity photos.”

 

Laughing again, Stiles did as was requested and held it up for her. “Boyd’s gonna kill me when he finds out you were here. You have to go see him. In fact, hang around and come back with us when this is done.”

 

“Only if your watchdog approves,” Erica said, winking at Derek. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I came around the corner.”

 

He felt his face go stony and couldn’t help it, but Stiles seemed unmoved by his expression. “He approves. He approves.”

 

“Then thanks for the autograph.” She held it gently in her hands and wiggled her shoulders like she held a very tempting lure. “And I’ll see you later.”

 

Then she was sashaying away from the table like a pro model. In her wake, Derek and Stiles exchanged a look that was equally confused and curious on both sides. Derek was wondering how Stiles knew such a woman, what their relationship was or had been, and his stomach was knotted in jealousy. But he had no idea why a similar expression was on Stiles’ face.

 

After Erica’s departure, the rest of the event was bordering on boring. There were plenty of excited fans, asking him to sign all kinds of things – instruments, yearbooks, one guy brought a pumpkin – but none seemed threatening or invasive. And Stiles grew tired. The fans, no doubt, couldn’t tell. He was still cheerful and friendly, but he gripped his pen a bit tighter, his shoulders sagged just a bit more, and Derek could tell the event was slowly running him down.

 

So when the last fan was helped, the last photo taken, and the store was deemed clear, Derek wasn’t the only one to breathe a sigh of relief.

 

“Good work,” Melissa said, leaning against the table. “You look tired, so let’s get you some water to drink and then head back to the buses so you can sleep. Okay?”

 

“Sounds good to me, Mom,” Stiles said with a tease, but Melissa only looked fond as she ruffled his hair and walked away to organize the breakdown. “Come with me,” Stiles said to Derek without looking completely at him.

 

Wordlessly, Derek followed as Stiles led him around shelves of CDs and towards the back corner of the store. The only thing back there was the bathroom, and Stiles led Derek inside without hesitation, but he didn’t go for one of the stalls. As soon as the door closed behind them, he turned and leaned in close to Derek.

 

The singer’s eyes shut as their foreheads rested together, and Derek found his own closing, a relaxed feeling taking over his body. Stiles’ hand was on the back of his head, and though Derek expected it, Stiles didn’t try to kiss him or even ask about it. He just leaned his head on Derek’s and breathed slowly.  After a short moment, Derek opened his eyes and watched Stiles breathe, watched the tension ease from his shoulders.

 

“Stiles,” he said, much quieter and gentler than he’d planned.

 

The singer shook his head as he pulled away. “Sorry. I’ll explain it to you sometime.”

 

He looked much calmer, less tired, when he headed for the door, and Derek thought maybe he understood without Stiles telling him. They were soul mates. Derek knew it. There was no other explanation for why being close to Derek would relieve the tension from Stiles’ body. Stiles had to realize that too, so now the only question was why he didn’t explain it to Derek now.

 

Stiles had said he wanted to pick his soul mate, not have it picked for him. So, Derek thought as he followed Stiles back into the store, the only thing stopping Stiles must be a desire to determine if he even wanted Derek to be his soul mate. It certainly seemed like he did some times, but then… the coldness from the day before, their arguing – perhaps Stiles was waiting for the other shoe to drop, just like Derek had been.

 

But Derek wasn’t waiting for something bad to happen anymore, because that bathroom moment had solidified everything for him… at least cosmically.

 

They hung around the store for about half an hour, partly to pack up and partly to make sure the fans had time to clear out of the parking lot. By the time they were leaving, Derek had completely forgotten about Allison’s investigative work back at the concert hall. He was watching Stiles converse with Melissa as they walked, taking note of every mole, every freckle, and he wondered how it was possible for the lava in his veins to feel so … pleasing.

 

At first it had made him feel sluggish and awful, then hot and burned, and now it was strong and warm. He couldn’t even see Stiles’ eyes, and yet the feeling came all the same. Thinking back on Jennifer, on the tingling sensation her skin left behind, Derek could only note the difference. Stiles had never had to touch him to affect him. Maybe that should have been a clearer sign, but Derek had been so determined to ignore it.

 

Walking to the car, his mind was fixed on all the signs that he should have noticed and he became more and more assured that Stiles had to be his soul mate. There was no other option. So he almost didn’t react when the SUV came racing through the parking lot in their direction.

 

“What?” someone asked, a general question on the unusual event.

 

It took Derek a moment longer than it should have to recognize the threat – that the SUV was picking up speed instead of losing it and heading straight for them. Derek tensed and grabbed for Stiles, shouting “Move!” as he did so. The other security members pulled Melissa, Erica, and the others back while Derek ran forward, pushing Stiles along with him. The SUV swerved away from the others and toward Derek and Stiles, honing in on them. Stiles yelped as Derek shoved him between two cars, causing him to trip, and Derek took a second to look into the windshield of the SUV before he knew the parked cars weren’t going to stop the driver.

 

Cursing, he threw himself down on top of Stiles on the ground. “Down!” he shouted just as the SUV’s front bumper collided with the car on their right. Stiles shouted, hands covering his head, as glass shattered and the car lurched toward them. The SUV didn’t stop however, pushing the green compact several feet before veering off and escaping onto the busy highway on the other side of the bushes.

 

Derek couldn’t move. As inappropriate as it was to lie so flush against Stiles, he couldn’t lift himself up. His fists were clenched and his eyes were squeezed shut and someone was shouting their names, but he couldn’t move. It hurt. He wanted to look, but he didn’t, he couldn’t.

 

“Derek?” It was Stiles, voice concerned and shaking, that gave him enough to focus on besides pain and allowed him to open his eyes. Stiles was facing the pavement, but he could see Derek’s fists, clenched so tightly that the skin turned white, and he reached one hand out to grabbed the wrist closest to his face. “Are you okay?”

 

Derek tried to answer, but all that came out was a whine of a noise he’d never heard from himself before. Of course he’d never been in this much pain either.

 

“Stiles?! Derek?!” Melissa called out, just blocked by the car.

 

“Call an ambulance!” Stiles shouted, and Derek felt relief in his chest. Stiles couldn’t see Derek, couldn’t see the leg that was causing him so much pain, but he knew. Someone, probably Melissa, muttered “Oh my God” at the order, but it was hard to hear over Stiles talking, low and quick, to him. “You’re alright. Alright? Whatever’s wrong – it’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.”

 

“Sorry,” Derek managed to huff out, face against Stiles’ back.

 

“Oh my God, for what?” Stiles asked, voice almost hysterical. “Don’t you dare say you’re dying.”

 

A snort escaped Derek despite the pain in his leg. “No.”

 

“Good. Now what are you sorry for?” Stiles asked, trying to tilt his head back to see more than Derek’s fist.

 

“I… I think I’m off your detail.” Whatever was causing the pain in his leg would be bad news, he understood that. He also understood that he couldn’t be the head of Stiles’ security team if he couldn’t walk.

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Stiles scolded, his hand tightening around Derek’s wrist. It wasn’t the one with his numbers on it, but the contact eased his tension just a bit. “You have to be on my security detail.”

 

He sounded so determined, like the statement was as true as saying the Earth revolved around the Sun. Derek let out a pained chuckle, and so did Stiles, even though he wasn’t injured. In the silence that followed, Derek just concentrated on breathing, and then Melissa’s voice reached them.

 

“The paramedics are here!” she called. “And a fire truck, and I think those police are for us too.” And now Derek could hear the sirens.

 

Derek managed to force his left fist open and Stiles slid his hand into Derek’s like he was psychic as well as a singer. He didn’t even complain as Derek gripped his hand like a lifeline.

 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Stiles murmured once, twice, three times, and Derek couldn’t tell if he was saying it to Derek or to himself.

\-- -- -- --

 

Maybe he hadn’t been clear before, but Derek hated hospitals. He knew, logically, that he had to be there, but it didn’t make the memories of the electric fire any less memorable. He remembered his uncle, raving mad and writhing on the hospital bed until they gave him enough painkiller to make him just mad.

 

The burned skin on his arm was enough to give Derek nightmares for weeks, and his uncle’s near continuous rant about hospitals being evil places and how the fire hadn’t been his fault and if anyone tried to charge him with it then he’d kill them and then back to how the hospital just wanted their money – well it hadn’t done well for Derek’s psyche. Now every time he saw a hospital, he just got a sick feeling in his chest and thought of Paige and his uncle.

 

The EMTs had managed to pry the car off Derek’s leg with the help of the firemen, and they’d immediately moved him onto a gurney and into the ambulance. He saw Stiles stand up just fine, and then the EMTs did a brief check up on him, in a hurry to get Derek to the hospital. He knew the police had shown up to take statements and there was an alert out for the SUV, but then the ambulance doors shut and the last thing he saw was Stiles’ anxious face, his left hand clenched tight around his right forearm.

 

One x-ray, one fitting, and lots of medication later, Derek was propped up in his hospital bed, right shin in a cast and feeling pretty good about the future of his leg. Laura was there, had been since he got out of x-rays, and had long since finished scolding him for being stupid. Now she just sat by him, sending emails and checking their itinerary on her tablet.

 

“Laura,” Derek said, breaking the silence. “We have to talk about this.”

 

“About what?”

 

“About my replacement.”

 

That got Laura to look up from her mail, a surprised look on her face before it settled into a frown. “What are you talking about? You’re fine.”

 

“Laura, I can’t protect Stiles when I’ll be in a wheelchair or on crutches. Someone will have to take my place.” When she looked like she might protest, he held up his hand to silence her. “Please don’t pretend that we have any other choice.”

 

Laura swallowed thickly, biting back whatever it was she’d been about to say, and then she reached out to touch his hand. After a long silence, she finally murmured, “We could bring in Uncle Peter.”

 

“Anyone but him,” Derek grunted, remembering the electrical fire and how Peter had ignored Derek’s warnings.

 

Before Laura could speak again, there was a soft knock on the doorframe, and they both looked up to find several visitors. Melissa had knocked, but she was accompanied by Scott, Kira, Allison, and Isaac. They all looked nervous, like they didn’t know if Derek blamed the tour for his injury or if he would even be nice. Maybe he should work on his “serial killer” eyebrows.

 

“One at a time, guys,” Melissa said. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “If that’s alright with Derek.”

 

He nodded, because he honestly didn’t mind, but he was thinking about Isaac. Allison and Scott, he understood well enough. Kira seemed to hang around Scott a lot, both because of Stiles and because she obviously liked him. But why Isaac?

 

Scott moved to come into the room at the same time as Allison and they ran into each other, bumping from each other and into the doorframe and then back. As they both exclaimed pain with their shoulders hitting the walls, there was a bright glow from between them and all regard for Derek was put on hold.

 

“But-?” Allison asked, holding up her glowing wrist. Scott held up his too and then they looked curiously at each other. Then Allison’s face went tense with worry. “Isaac?” she gasped and turned to him.

 

The make-up artist’s brow was knit tightly and when Allison turned to him, he held up his blank wrist to her. Allison pressed their wrists together, and the glow transferred from her wrist to his before all three wrists went blank.

 

“I don’t understand,” Allison murmured. “Isaac and I already cancelled each other out yesterday. How-“

 

“Multiple mates,” Melissa said with a shrug of her shoulders. Her eyes were on Scott, proud but anxious. After a moment, Scott looked up at her and she motioned to Kira with those eyes. Stiles and Melissa always talked about Kira as though she and Scott were already an item. Perhaps they had been, but with this revelation…

 

“It’s okay,” Kira said before Scott had a chance to even look her way, but with those words, everyone was looking at her. She looked nervously between all the eyes and took a step back. “It-…. It’s really okay.” Then she muttered out a quick “I’ll be right back” and scurried off down the hallway and out of sight.

 

Derek didn’t know her very well, but in that moment he did feel for her. She obviously really liked Scott. This couldn’t be easy for her. For his part, Scott didn’t look very joyous over the news either. He looked between Derek and where Kira ran, then between Allison and Kira, and then he clenched his hand into a loose fist and grunted. “Sorry. Excuse me,” he said and then he was gone too.

 

A brief silence was left in their wake, but Allison was determined not to let it reign. She took hold of Isaac’s hand and pulled him into the room with her, despite the one-at-a-time rule, and she only let go when she got to Derek’s bedside.

 

“The microphone,” she said to begin.

 

“Kate Argent?” Derek guessed, cutting her off, and her eyes grew wide.

 

“Yeah. She developed a tiny EMP blaster with the R&D department of Argent Securities, but the project was shut down because the pieces were too small to be stable and had the side-effect of literally exploding. I found one in the rubble, and she’s the only person with the blueprints. But how did you know?” Allison asked, hand on the bed as she leaned forward.

 

“She was driving the SUV,” Derek explained and tried to ignore the way his leg itched under the cast. “Her hair was up and it was dark, but it was definitely her.”

 

“You know her aunt?” Isaac asked, skeptical.

 

Derek did his best not to glare too harshly at the kid. “Yes. We met in passing when she sued my uncle for defamation.”

 

“Not to mention our families are competitors,” Allison added kindly. “It’s common for us to recognize major members of the other firm.”

 

“Oh,” was all Isaac said, shrinking back out of the conversation.

 

In respect for him, they waited only a moment before continuing. Allison asked, “Did you mention her in your statement to the police?”

 

With a nod, Derek answered, “Yeah, but I haven’t heard anything back. They probably won’t find her at home, though.”

 

“But why is she doing this?” Laura asked, sitting up in her seat. “Our families have been tense since her photos leaked and Peter was sued, but why now? It’s been years. And why you and not Peter? It doesn’t make sense.”

 

“It kinda makes sense,” Isaac said, having not lost his courage. When they all focused on him, he just shrugged and started cleaning his nails with his own nails. “She hates your family and wants to defame you too. Why go after the big bad wolf when you can pick off the pups?”

 

“We aren’t pups,” Laura snapped, and there was a growl there that made her seem very wolf-ish in that moment.

 

“I’m just saying you’re not the big fish in her pond,” Isaac said, holding his hands up defensively. “She can’t get to Peter for one reason or another, so she’s after whatever bit of the Hale company she can get.”

 

“He’s right,” Allison agreed. “And Stiles is a high-profile client. The internet is already in chaos over the last two known incidents – the stage light and then Stiles’ hand all wrapped up. I can only imagine this one has already been posted to every major social networking site. The tweets will be to the moon by now.” She paused momentarily, looking down at her hands and pursing her lips. “I’m so sorry. My family is a mess.”

 

Laura shook her head and reached across Derek to put her hand on Allison’s. “We don’t blame you, Allison. This isn’t your fault.”

 

“No. But I will help stop her,” Allison declared, her eyes determined. “I’m going to tell the police about the microphone and whatever else I can to help them find her. I won’t let her hurt anyone else – especially no more of my friends.”

 

She looked at Derek when she said it, but he was too stunned to reply. Friends? Sure the company saw Lydia quite often because of Jordan, and Derek had passed Allison a few times, but this was their first major gig together and… They barely knew each other. How could she consider them friends?

 

“Thank you,” he said anyway. Because it didn’t matter how long they’d known each other or how well.

 

Shortly after, Allison excused herself to go file that police report, but before she left, she told Derek to get better soon or she’d make him regret it. Isaac waved and said to feel better, dude, and that made Derek smirk.

 

It was a good thought, that Allison might be able to help stop Kate, but he didn’t get his hopes up. Not only did he not doubt Kate’s skill, since she had managed to do this much damage already and not be caught, but Allison had new problems to deal with now. She had two, potentially three, soul mates. Derek couldn’t ask her to pretend that wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t be able to if it was happening to him.

 

A few minutes later, Laura excused herself to go find a bathroom and Melissa, quiet as ever, left to see about switching the payment from the Hale family to the Stilinski tour. If nothing else worked, she seemed determined to pay at least half of the medical bills directly to Derek in compensation for his heroics and for keeping it from happening to Stiles.

 

The whole time, Derek kept trying to think up who could take his place and help Laura, and he kept coming back to only two people. One was his mother, but she was running the whole company and wouldn’t have time to finish off a tour. The other…

 

A knock brought his attention back to the door and he expected to see Melissa or Scott, but instead he found Stiles.

 

“Hey,” the singer greeted.

 

“Hey, yourself. All checked out?” Derek asked. He saw no bandages or splints anywhere on Stiles that he didn’t have normally, which was really good news. Only his right wrist and hand were wrapped up.

 

“Not a laceration to be found,” Stiles said, holding his arms out to present himself, whole and uninjured as he was. “You’re really good at your job.”

 

“If we’d been better, she wouldn’t have gotten as close as she did,” Derek argued calmly.

 

For a moment it seemed Stiles would contest the statement, but then he sucked back in whatever his words might have been. He still stood at the door, and he leaned back to look down the hall in both directions before he spoke again.

 

“So… broken?” he asked and rubbed his hands down his sides as though they were wet.

 

“Yeah. The doctor says I’ll be in a wheelchair for a month, and then it’s crutches for at least two weeks after that,” Derek explained.

 

“And the tour?” Stiles took a step into the room, his body bouncing in anticipation. It reminded Derek of a nervous child or a puppy struggling to obey the ‘sit’ command.

 

“My uncle will take my place. I’d rather he didn’t, but there’s no one else at his level of experience. You’ll be in good hands with him and Laura. Everyone else will stay as well. I’m the only one leaving.” Derek swallowed thickly after the words left his mouth. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted…

 

“Shit.” The only way to describe the manner in which Stiles moved from the door to Laura’s chair was to say he sprung there. One moment he was hesitating by the entrance and the next he was flopping hazardously into the chair beside Derek, hand gripping the bed sheet tightly. “Shit. Why… Why couldn’t it have been someone else? Sorry – not that I’m saying anyone deserved to get hit or hurt or whatever, and I’m definitely not suggesting I should have been left to my own devices, because let’s be honest, I probably would have broken my leg tripping off the sidewalk, but damn it, I don’t want someone else on my detail. I want y-“

 

And he sucked in a large breath to cut himself off, hand slapping across his mouth as he looked away from Derek.

 

“I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry,” he said in the next moment, when he let himself breathe again. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I rant when I’m nervous. I mean, I rant when I’m excited too. I guess I just rant a lot. Please just tell me to shut up.”

 

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek said obediently, but it was heatless and thus ineffective as an order. Stiles swung his head around to look at him then, and after only a second of comprehension, he started to smile.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, his smile faltering only a little as he mimicked zipping his lips shut. Then he slowly pushed himself up and leaned over the bed. When he got close enough, Derek reached out to him and mimicked unzipping Stiles lips again.

 

Stiles’ mouth pulled into a bittersweet smile, and then Stiles kissed him, soft and slow. And it was good as well as sad, because tomorrow Derek would be in Los Angeles and Stiles would be in Detroit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 11:
> 
> A week before Derek’s cast is set to be removed, news hits the internet that throws everyone around Stiles into chaos, mostly because it causes Stiles to collapse and no doctor can help him. Derek arrives as fast as he can to help, mind clouded by the news and by Stiles’ condition, but Stiles won’t allow him to stay… not until he clears up the rumors the internet has spread and tells Derek everything. Absolutely Everything. But is Derek ready for the truth hiding under Stiles’ wristband?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week before Derek’s cast is set to be removed, news hits the internet that throws everyone around Stiles into chaos, mostly because it causes Stiles to collapse and no doctor can help him. Derek arrives as fast as he can to help, mind clouded by the news and by Stiles’ condition, but Stiles won’t allow him to stay… not until he clears up the rumors the internet has spread and tells Derek everything. Absolutely Everything. But is Derek ready for the truth hiding under Stiles’ wristband?

Home life was boring. Well not normally, but Derek wasn’t allowed to get off the couch half the time, so it was boring. And it was driving him insane because his wrist had dulled like a PS3 left sitting too long without action. He was over his month, and he was certain Stiles was his soul mate, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it because the Stilinski tour wasn’t over and Derek couldn’t just have that kind of conversation over the phone.

 

Laura, put Stiles on the phone. Oh hey. So I know you don’t believe in cosmic juju, but we’re soul mates, and I think you think so too because you kissed me goodbye and you looked like doing so ripped your heart out, so could you fly out to LA so we can put our wrists together and call it official? Thanks.

 

Yeah, like hell that was gonna happen.

 

On the bright side, his couch restriction would be lifted soon and then maybe he could fly out to meet the tour as a consultant or, hell, a concert groupie. As it was, he’d been living off watching old videos on youtube of Stiles doing interviews, music videos, and concerts…. And Laura’s frequent updates.

 

“Oh, I heard your phone,” his mother said as she brought him a bag of Taco Bell and set it on the side table. “What’s new in Stiles-town?”

 

Derek chuckled as she leaned over to kiss the top of his head. “Nothing new. Uncle Peter is no one’s favorite. He’s strict and no fun. Except when he’s hitting on the interns.”

 

“Ha! And he talks to _me_ about professionalism,” Talia said, grinning broadly and taking a seat by her son. “And?”

 

“And what?” Derek asked, closing his phone.

 

“No updates about Stiles?” she asked, leaning in until their shoulders touched. Gently, she ran her fingers over Derek’s dim wrist.

 

“Mother,” Derek chided softly and moved to take her teasing hand in his.

 

“Derek,” she answered in a mimic. “Your cast comes off this weekend, and he’s only got two shows left in this tour. Then he’s no longer a client.”

 

“And then I’ll talk to him,” Derek agreed. “After the tour.”

 

His mother, though joking and smiling a moment before, went quiet. Her eyes were staring at nothing in particular and she pressed her lips gently together. Laura used to call this “Listening to the radio” when they talked about it in public. In a moment, his mom would smoothly re-enter the conversation, as though she’d only paused to hear a quick weather report on the radio, only now she’d have something interesting to add.

 

As expected, only a few heartbeats passed before Talia straightened slightly and made a thoughtful sound. Usually she’d start smiling after one of those moments, but she wasn’t smiling this time. “Derek, I think you need to go to Arizona.”

 

“Why?” She’d been the one nervous about him flying with the cast. Now she wanted him to go see Stiles in concert in Tucson?

 

With a quick pat on his uninjured leg, Talia stood and started for the closet where the suitcases were. “Come on. Let’s pack. We need to leave tonight if we’re going to make it in time.”

 

“You’re coming too?” he asked, brow knit and confusion taking over, as he carefully got to his feet and grabbed his crutches for support.

 

“Of course. This is an important event. Plus I’m on a three day vacation. No sense spending it at home.” She paused after ripping the suitcase from where it had been snuggly fitted into the closet and turned to face him, her normal calm smile back in place. “Trust me, Derek. You want to be there.”

\-- -- -- --

 

Maybe he mom wasn’t psychic. But on the other hand, maybe she definitely and completely was. They drove instead of flew, which was odd but turned out to be the first good decision, because a storm delayed all flights leaving LAX for TUS for three hours. Derek did not like the idea of sitting in a crowded airport, surrounded by antsy people in a hurry, with nothing but fast food and overly priced health foods to sustain himself on. Halfway to Tucson, he checked the flight they would have taken, because maybe four and a half hours via delayed plane was better than eight hours in a car, but apparently their flight had some kind of malfunction and had been cancelled.

 

Driving eight hours was definitely the better choice.

 

The second definitive clue that his mother was psychic came just as they passed the border into Arizona. Halfway to Stiles, and his phone got a breaking news alert. Since joining the tour, he’d put an alert on anything related to Stiles, so he expected the notification to be an update on the concert in two days, but it was so much bigger than that.

 

“Scandal and Heartbreak Behind Stage Doors: What Stiles Stilinski Doesn’t Want You to Know About His Ex”, the title read. Forehead creasing, Derek clicked the link and found himself full on glaring at the author of the article. Jennifer Blake.

 

“I don’t think anyone will mind if I speed up just a tad,” Talia mused from the driver’s seat, looking out the window as though there was nothing wrong with the world and she was just a quaint little old lady out for a Sunday drive.

 

But Derek didn’t really hear her. He was reading the article.

 

An ex-security guard, Matt Daehler, had sat down with Jennifer to explain his steamy past with Stiles. According to the article, the two had secretly dated behind the scenes, to keep off the front pages and protect Stiles’ image when he was just starting out. According to Daehler, Stiles became too focused on his fame, causing Matt to feel abandoned, and the two parted on less than pleasant terms.

 

Frown burning into his face, Derek read a passage of information provided by “an anonymous crew member” about how Stiles didn’t like to hold on to the same security for too long after his affair with Daehler went south. The statement itself would have pissed him off regularly, but it was worse now because that had been something Derek had told Jennifer. Of course, he’d been trying to make Hale Securities look and sound better, but obviously she’d been fishing for other things.

 

How much of the article was true though? Some of it did make sense – Stiles not liking to keep the same crew for too long did match up with having a major issue with one in the past. Stiles disliking the idea of his numbers would also match with a possible ex-boyfriend if Stiles had been in love at the time only to have his heart broken.

 

But some things didn’t add up. The person Matt Daehler described when talking about Stiles didn’t sound like Stiles. Too focused on his fame to give attention to other people? Stiles was always giving attention to others. He sent Scott away to hang out with Kira as often as possible because he knew Scott wanted to go. He didn’t pressure Derek into conversations. No one had a cross word to say about the singer.

 

Derek needed to get to Stiles, because whether the article was true or fictional, someone had just emotionally attacked him, and Derek needed to see him.

 

His eyes drifted over to his mother, just as calm as ever as she drove, and he dropped his phone to his lap. “Thanks,” he murmured over the soft sounds of old rock coming from the radio.

 

“Anytime,” Talia said and smiled kindly at him.

\-- -- -- --

 

Of course they didn’t just show up unannounced. Derek texted Laura for the better part of the remaining four hour drive. According to his sister, they’d found out the news about an hour ahead of time because Erica had burst into the security room, eyes wide and demanding an explanation or a solution or both. Stiles hadn’t been there, and they’d hoped to catch the article before it posted so he’d never have to know, but it went up regardless and Stiles found out like everyone else.

 

Melissa was working with Stiles’ publicity manager on how to handle the public’s interest in the matter and turn it into a positive light. Scott was talking to everyone on the crew personally, both to ensure they didn’t blow anything out of proportion and also to remind them that talking to the press about sensitive information was against their contracts. Derek decided not to tell anyone it had accidentally been him.

 

But the most stressing news came about thirty minutes out. Instead of texting, Laura called, which was already a stressful sign.

 

“Derek, I don’t know what to do,” she said, frustration and worry clouding her words.

 

“What’s happened?” he asked while Talia pretended not to be interested.

 

“How can you defend someone against themselves?” Laura asked. “He swears there’s nothing I can do, but he won’t come off the bus and he looks like he’s sick and- hey!”

 

The phone was jostled as someone took it from Laura’s hands, and Derek felt his own stomach roll over. Stress makes it worse, Scott had said. If Stiles was having an episode of his weird illness, why couldn’t the Yukimura’s help him?

 

“Derek?” it was Scott’s voice that spoke in his ear next. “You’re coming here?”

 

“Yeah. We’re about half an hour out,” Derek clarified. “How is he?”

 

“Dude, he’s not well. Both Kira and her dad have stopped by, but the medicine isn’t fixing it. It’s just making him less awful. You have got to get here,” Scott ordered.

 

In the background, he heard Laura say something like “Wait, Derek knows about Stiles being sick?” but he was more focused on the order.

 

“Why me?” he asked, though he knew the answer himself. Did Scott know?

 

“I don’t…. The other day, Stiles said it doesn’t…. it doesn’t hurt when you’re around,” Scott said and sighed loudly. “I don’t know, but if you can fix it, I need you here now.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Derek thought back to the moment in the bathroom, when Stiles had leaned their foreheads together. He thought about the kiss on the bus and how Stiles had said, “It doesn’t hurt” afterward. There was no doubt in his mind about why he was different for Stiles, but he still didn’t know what kind of illness could be stifled by being around your soul mate.

 

“I’ll be there soon,” he said.

\-- -- -- --

 

When they pulled up to set of busses, Laura and Scott were waiting for them. Parrish and Lydia were standing close together by Allison’s bus, whispering quickly. To Derek’s surprise, or perhaps he wasn’t surprised, Allison and Isaac were standing with Kira a polite distance away from the couple, all looking equally unsure and anxious.

 

Crutches first, Derek climbed out of the car and hopped to get steady on his feet. Laura was there by him in a second, hand on his face.

 

“How’s the leg?” she asked.

 

“Well the cast comes off in a few days and then it’s just getting used to walking on it again,” Derek said with a smile, but it quickly fell off his face. “Why is everyone standing around?”

 

“Stiles collapsed about half an hour after he read the article. They’re all worried because Yukimura didn’t have good news when he came off the bus,” Laura explained. Her next sentence was spoken with a bit of jealousy and suspicion. “And no one seems to have known he was even sick besides you, the Yukimura’s, and the McCall’s.”

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Derek said. “You knew too, just no one told you it was chronic. You saw him our first day just like I did.” Her face scrunched up in concern and understanding, but he ignored it. “Get everyone back to work. You have prepping to do for the concert tomorrow. Allison isn’t even part of that anymore, but I’ll move past asking why she’s still here. I can guess. I’m sure Peter is harassing someone inside, so I need you to go take care of him and the crew.”

 

“Derek-,” Laura started to argue, but he shook his head and she quieted.

 

“Having everyone waiting outside is probably only making it worse. He’s feeling stressed already and then everyone he cares about is stressing out, which compounds on Stiles. Get everyone moving and doing normal things. Just clear them out.” He stopped, seeing her features growing upset, and added a quiet, “Please.”

 

Melting at the word, Laura sighed and nodded. “Fine. Fine. But you’re explaining everything to me later.”

 

“I promise,” Derek said, and then Laura walked away to get everyone gone.

 

Scott was watching him carefully during the greeting and then walked with Derek to the bus door as everyone else started moving away. He unlocked the door but then paused, turning to look at Derek.

 

“I’m not stupid,” he said, earning a curious eyebrow raise from Derek. “I’m not. I know what this all probably means for him… for you. But just… don’t get too excited, okay? He doesn’t need to be let down again.”

 

Words sounded stupid in his head, so Derek just nodded to show he understood. He didn’t really, but Scott didn’t need to know that. If they were soul mates, how could Stiles be let down by Derek? It made no sense.

 

Climbing the stairs on the bus was the hard part. It was slow going, but when he got to the top and looked over at the couch, Stiles was staring at him like he was a diamond. The curtains were drawn, but all the lights were on, making it seem like night despite the bright sun outside.

 

“Derek,” Stiles said, breathy. He definitely sounded ill. His skin was pale, his hairline damp with sweat, and he was nearly clawing his right forearm with his left hand. Derek didn’t like the uneven breathing Stiles was doing either. “What are you… doing here?”

 

“No one told you I was coming?” Derek asked, hopping his way over to plop down by Stiles on the couch. The singer shook his head and swallowed thickly, like he might want to throw up. Slowly, Derek reached out to touch Stiles’ face. At first, Stiles leaned away, but Derek just reached out more and then Stiles pressed his lips into a fine line and leaned forward again.

 

Stiles felt as clammy as he looked, but the moment Derek’s hand touched his skin, his eyes closed and he sucked in a short breath of shock. Although his body was shaking, Stiles’ breathing evened out significantly and he leaned into Derek’s touch.

 

“My mother drove us here as fast as she could,” Derek said, his other hand reaching up to push the damp hair from Stiles’ forehead.

 

“You drove from LA?” Stiles murmured, and his voice sounded stronger. “Because of an article?”

 

“Because of you,” Derek corrected. “I knew you’d probably feel bad, regardless of the validity of the article, and then Scott called and told me your sickness had flared up and… I wanted to help.”

 

Stiles chuckled, but it sounded sour, and pressed his face into Derek’s hand a little harder before pulling away entirely. When he opened his eyes, he looked cold, like he had in the prep room when he’d suddenly treated Derek like a stranger.

 

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said.

 

“Why not? Look, you’re already feeling better,” Derek pointed out. Stiles’ shivering had ceased.

 

“Because it’s not a sickness, and I can’t give you what you want,” Stiles insisted, turning and standing up from the couch. His right hand shook slightly and he flexed his fingers until it stopped.

 

“What do you mean? What do you think I want?” Derek’s brow knit together and he frowned deeply, angling himself to face Stiles. He just wanted to help Stiles feel better, to know if they were actually soul mates, and then date him even if he wasn’t.

 

“Uh, duh. A soul mate,” Stiles answered, as though Derek had gotten stupid since their last conversation. He knelt on a chair against the opposite wall and peeked through the curtains at what Derek hoped was now an empty parking lot. “And I’m nobody’s soul mate. That’s why I get sick.”

 

Well that didn’t make sense. “How can you be nobody’s soul mate?” Derek stood and moved to reach for Stiles, but the singer flipped around on him, his face screwed up like he wanted to yell but was holding it in. “I was just starting to think you were mine.”

 

“No.” Stiles shook his head and sat down, so Derek sat too, only now they were across from each other. Stiles’ hands were shaking again as he clumsily tried to work his wristband off. “No, and I’m gonna show you why, because I feel bad enough using you to make myself feel better. I’m not gonna let you follow me around, hoping one day we turn out to be meant for each other, when I have proof that we can’t be. That’s verging on cruel, and I’m not-“

 

Derek’s hand covered Stiles on his wrist, stilling the younger man’s shaking. After giving the singer an assuring nod, Derek took over the task of slipping off the wristband. Stiles reached up and undid the start of the bandage that wrapped around his forearm, but then he handed it off to Derek to finish.

 

“You’ve read the article?” he asked. Derek only nodded. “Well it’s mostly true. I did date my first head of security’s son – Matt Daehler. We did do it in secret, but it was mostly because his father was a dick and Matt didn’t want him finding out he was bisexual, not because of my image. “

 

Several turns around Stiles’ forearm reveal nothing but plain skin, but just before Derek could unwrap Stiles’ wrist, the young man’s hand reached over and stopped him. When Derek looked up at him, Stiles was staring at the floor and his knee was bouncing with nerves. He’d pressed his lips together so tight they were slightly white and he was taking deep breaths through his nose.

 

“You don’t have to show me,” Derek said despite wanting to see so badly. What about Stiles wrist could possible disqualify the feelings Derek got when he looked at Stiles, when Stiles looked at him? What could be there to tell him his hormones were invalid even though he got sick just thinking about Stiles being this upset. He wanted desperately to know or to prove Stiles wrong, but he didn’t want to force it out of Stiles.

 

“No. No I want to show you. I just… I’ve never shown anyone before. The only ones who know are the Yukimuras, Scott and his mom, and my dad.” Stiles let out a shaky breath and removed his hand. “Do it.”

 

Derek hesitated a moment, in case Stiles changed his mind, but then he continued unwrapping. Something was visible after one more unwrap, but he didn’t know what it was until half of Stiles’ wrist was visible. Scars, thick and blotchy, covered Stiles’ wrist, completely obliterating the area his numbers should have been visible on.

 

“Stiles-,” Derek began, but found himself silenced by the continuation of the story.

 

“When my mom died.” Stiles paused to swallow several times and shook his head, staring at his own disfigured wrist. “She always talked about how perfect the aura sphere was… and when she died I went to Matt. I needed someone to wrap me in their arms and tell me it was gonna be okay, and my dad was a wreck and I couldn’t do that to him… or for him… And I thought Matt would. But when I found him, he was making out with a girl on his daddy’s payroll and he told me I’d been ‘fun’ but that it wasn’t like he was in love with me. Obviously we weren’t soul mates, cause our numbers were still counting down, but he said he couldn’t even look at me because I looked like shit, crying over my mom and my dad and everything. After everything… I don’t know. He was ruthless, man.”

 

Derek moved closer, kneeling on the floor, so he could cup Stiles’ cheek again. Kneeling was awkward with his cast, but he wanted to be closer. Stiles looked like he might start crying right there, but he just closed his eyes until he could open them without being on the verge of tears.

 

“I was in kind of a dark place. When I told Melissa about Matt, she fired the company. But I was having panic attacks about my mom and about my social life and whenever I took off the wrist band, I saw those stupid numbers, and I was just scared and angry and… I went to the kitchen, got a knife, and cut them out.”

 

The deep breath that followed the admission was amplified by the utter silence that followed it. Stiles clenched his right hand and pursed his lips before he finally got the courage to look at Derek’s face. For his part, Derek didn’t know what to feel. He had, at more than one point, been upset with the aura sphere, at his own numbers. He could remember how it felt to watch his mother’s wrist light up again after his father’s death, how confused and angry he’d been. But his mother, his family, had handled it all so well.

 

He tried to imagine being on the cusp of stardom and losing everyone you loved – one to death, one to alcohol, and one to heart break – and having nowhere to turn. He didn’t know what his face showed, but after a long silence, Stiles took another deep breath and continued.

 

“See?” he said. “That’s when the illness started. The aura sphere can’t concentrate in me anymore, so I just get the backlash. I tore out my numbers, almost died doing it, and now I’m broken. I can’t match up with anyone anymore.”

 

“And the pills?” Derek asked, voice soft.

 

“Mr. Yukimura was the doctor they sent me to when I wasn’t dying of blood loss anymore. His pills are experimental. They’re meant to, one day, make the numbers more accurate. In me, they just balance the aura sphere’s effects so I can function without pain.”

 

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a soul mate,” Derek corrected, gently feeling the scars with his fingertips. The scars were five years old, but they looked freshly healed.

 

“No. It means I broke the link between me and them, and now I don’t have a cosmic compass to tell me if I’m wrong or not this time.” Stiles pulled his hand back and bent down to pick the wrapping up from the floor where Derek had dropped it.

 

Before he could start rewrapping his arm, Derek gently pulled the cloth from him. “This time?” he asked. Stiles was talking about him, right? So did he feel all the strange tugs and pulls and lava that Derek felt?

 

“Look, Derek, I know you’re not stupid. I think you’re hot. I mean like really hot. And you’re a great guy, and you’re really good at your job, and you’re a little hard to get to know but after that even your scary eyebrows aren’t so scary. And I know you think I’m hot stuff or whatever, but none of that matters, cause I can’t be your soul mate.” Stiles frowned and held his hand out for the wrapping.

 

“None of that matters?” Derek asked, incredulous. He tossed the wrapping several feet away and took Stiles’ hand in his own, pointing at the scars with his free hand. “Do you know what this means? It means someone hurt you. A lot of someones, actually. And you had a low point. But it doesn’t mean you’re broken, Stiles. And there is more to us than hate or attraction or friendliness. You’re being stupid because you think I give a damn about your past, but you’re wrong.”

 

Anger. It wasn’t the first time it had sprung up around Stiles, and he doubted it would be the last. Was he angry at Stiles? A little bit. Mostly he was angry at Matt Daehler, for pushing Stiles into something so dark that he thought he could never come back from it. But he was also a little angry at himself. Had he been so obviously obsessed with his soul mate that even Stiles felt the pressure of it?

 

Derek liked Stiles. Numbers or no numbers, that didn’t change the lava in his veins, the way his lungs forgot to breathe, and the urge to keep him safe.

 

“I don’t understand.” Stiles’ voice was quieter, confused, and his brow knit together, and Derek couldn’t be mad at that.

 

Shaking his head, Derek reached up and cupped Stiles’ face before lifting himself up and pressing their lips together for a short kiss. Stiles looked even more confused in the wake of it, like he couldn’t understand why Derek would still want to do that, and Derek smiled up into his face.

 

“Soul mate or not, Stiles, I’d still like to give this a try.” He covered Stiles’ wrist with his right hand and felt a familiar shock roll through him. Stiles’ face twitched slightly, confirming what Derek suspected. “You feel it too. I know you do, or this wouldn’t bother you as much as it does. You want to be my soul mate.”

 

After a short noise of surprise, Stiles nodded. “I do want to be your soul mate,” he admitted. “I mean… I’ve wanted to be your soul mate since you carried me down the hallway to Kira. You made it hurt less then too. But then you were such an ass, and so was I, and the way your sister reacted to that girl in the hallway and wow. That’s pretty intimidating.”

 

“Stiles,” Derek scolded to stop the rant. At least the singer had to ability to look guilty. “Let’s be soul mates.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles said.

 

Derek laughed. “That easy?”

 

“That easy. I’m an easy guy…. Sometimes.” And now there was a smile on Stiles’ face, and it lifted Derek’s soul.

 

Securing his grip on Stiles’ hand, Derek lifted Stiles’ wrist like an item on display and then held his wrist up beside it. Stiles laughed at the showmanship and wiggled his fingers. “Be serious, Stiles. This is a very, very serious moment,” Derek ordered, but he was smiling too which only made his tease that much more effective and Stiles started to laugh all over again.

 

Shaking his head in mock disappointment, Derek gently placed their wrists together. Expecting nothing to happen, he was shocked when the contact made his wrist feel like it was vibrating. Stiles’ laughter shorted out as he choked on a gasp and stared in stunned fear at where their skin touched.

 

A bright glow emanated from Derek’s previously dimmed numbers, but it was nothing compared to the increasing shine drawing attention to all of Stiles’ scars. Derek’s wrist felt hot, like the lava from his veins was starting to simmer, but he didn’t pull away until it felt like he was pressing his wrist onto a stove top.

 

With a hiss, he ripped his wrist from Stiles’ and checked it to make sure he wasn’t actually burned. His numbers had blurred, but his skin was unmarred. Looking quickly up at Stiles, he saw the singer’s face contorted in pain, and looking down at his wrist revealed his fist was balled up tight, but he made no real noise of discomfort. His eyes were squinting down at the massive light under his skin and Derek couldn’t help but be drawn back to the sight as well.

 

The scars were a brilliant pale green, and then they weren’t. At first, Derek thought the light was disappearing, but after a minute he realized the truly spectacular truth. The scars were disappearing. As the light retreated, the marring of Stiles’ skin went with it until his wrist was as fresh and healed as a child’s. In the place of the scars were two, bright, glowing zeroes that matched the ones on Derek’s wrist.

 

Still feeling like his whole arm was set to vibrate, Derek brought their wrists to rest beside each other, and the two watched in mutual awe as the zeroes flared with light before ebbing away, absorbed into their skin.

 

When the bus had returned to its previous lighting, both men stayed quiet for several heartbeats.  Derek slowly dropped Stiles’ hand to touch his own wrist, and he watched Stiles do the same to his own. So they were really soul mates, then. Everything Derek had expected was true. After all the headaches and confusion and mood swings caused by his numbers, Stiles was actually his soul mate.

 

Looking up at Stiles, and still in shock, he murmured, “See? You’re not broken.”

 

Stiles jerked his head up, looking away from his miraculously healed wrist and into Derek’s eyes. He took a deep, shaking breath, and then he grabbed Derek and kissed him fiercely. “We’re soul mates,” he said, voice barely loud enough to hear, and then he let out a tiny giggle. Then another. Then he dropped onto the floor with Derek and hugged him tightly, his face in Derek’s shoulder, as he got caught between laughing and dry sobbing.

 

Derek held him close and rubbed his back, feeling fuller than he could ever remember feeling before. For these few moments, there was no one trying to hurt Stiles, no one trying to sabotage a tour or a company, no concert to prep for. It was just Derek and Stiles in a dark bus with blank wrists. For one of them, it was a miracle beyond miracles, and for the other it was the same miracle everyone was promised at birth. Derek raised his wrist up to look at where his numbers had been. Blank, tan skin.

 

“I’m not sure anyone’s actually going to be surprised,” Derek murmured, thinking back on conversations with Scott and Laura and even Melissa.

 

Now Stiles was definitely just laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 12:
> 
> Life promises to be good, blank wrist and all, and Derek is so relaxed that he doesn't even consider danger possible. He and Stiles are happy, and that's such a big thing for both of them, but especially for Stiles. So when Jordan reports with evidence that Kate Argent is rearing her ugly head again, Derek doesn't want Stiles to know. This one they'll handle quietly, and hopefully before the stage can burst into flames.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life promises to be good, blank wrist and all, and Derek is so relaxed that he doesn't even consider danger possible. He and Stiles are happy, and that's such a big thing for both of them, but especially for Stiles. So when Jordan reports with evidence that Kate Argent is rearing her ugly head again, Derek doesn't want Stiles to know. This one they'll handle quietly, and hopefully before the stage can burst into flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the month long delay, everyone. Life was pretty hectic, and then I watched The Fast and the Furious series for the first time (which took up all my free time for a whole week) and then I got a plot bunny for a TFaTF fic and... anyway the short version is that TFaTF + life kept me away, but here you go! A new chapter, and I will endeavor not to leave for so long ever again. Enjoy!

At first, no one seemed to notice what was different about Stiles at rehearsals. Derek and Stiles had been alone on the bus for about an hour, and after the miracle of their revelation, they’d discussed how to proceed. Stiles had suggested, and Derek agreed, that they let everyone know right away. Not that they should broadcast it, but in a more subtle way. In this case, it entailed Stiles no longer covering his wrists and waiting to see how long it took people to notice.

 

Honestly, it just sounded like Stiles playing a practical joke on the entire crew and also boasting about his joyous new status in life. Derek was entirely okay with this.

 

They walked into the backstage area – or Derek hobbled and Stiles held doors open for him and his crutches, but the idea was the same – and Derek took a seat to be a simple spectator. Laura came over to offer him a water bottle almost immediately before walking away, talking into her ear piece. Scott and Melissa both came over to thank him in private since Stiles was up and functional once more, but neither had yet noticed the difference, although they both squinted at Stiles while they spoke, suggesting they knew _something_ was different.

 

Uncle Peter was there as well, and he seemed less than pleased about the interruption to their schedule and Derek’s sudden appearance, but he saw Derek’s crutches and must have realized he wasn’t being replaced, because he even managed to smile when he came to greet his nephew.

 

“Derek!” he exclaimed overdramatically. “Still broken, I see.”

 

“Yes, Uncle Peter. Your job is still safe,” Derek agreed, patting the crutches across his lap. “You’re still in charge for the rest of the tour. I’m just here to… consult.”

 

“Good, good,” Peter said and clapped Derek on the back. “And you can take notes from how I handle things. Wouldn’t want you getting run over again on your next assignment.”

 

“Definitely not. Can’t have you taking all my credit,” Derek replied in a clipped manner, suggesting the conversation should end. Peter made a displeased noise but walked away nonetheless.

 

Another point of discussion before Derek and Stiles returned to set was how to keep Derek there legally. Stiles didn’t want Derek to leave. Which worked out great, because Derek didn’t want to go either. Like hell he was going to drive or fly back to L.A. with Jennifer being a bitch and Matt Daehler talking to the public and everyone’s eyes on Stiles. What kind of soul mate left in the middle of that kind of shit storm? Not a good one, that’s for sure.

 

So after set up and sound check, Stiles was going to get Melissa to draw up any forms needed to allow Derek to stay on the tour as a consultant – of what, Stiles didn’t care, as long as it got Derek to stay.

 

With his uncle gone, Derek focused on Stiles, on the way the light from the stage caught on his hair and made his skin glow. Smiling, he looked over Stiles’ wrist and thought about the much more intense glow that had happened on the bus.

 

Soul mates. What a powerful thing. His leg was broken, but he felt like floating.

 

“Stiles?!”

 

Of course it was Lydia who freaked out and stormed quickly onto the stage, her heels clicking in rapid succession and echoing around the hall. Jordan looked up from a checklist he was going over with a crew member to see the source of her outburst, as did most people.

 

“What’s up, Lydia?” Stiles asked, lowering his hand with the mic, which was fully healed from its burn.

 

“Don’t ‘what’s up’ me,” she said and snatched up his arm again. “When did this happen?”

 

Scott was standing ten feet away and gasped before rushing over. “Oh my God, Dude! I knew something was different! How?!”

 

And then there were six people swarming the stage, surrounding Stiles to get a look at his blank wrist. Those who knew about his previous wounds were even more shocked than those who didn’t, and Stiles just stood and smiled and laughed because no one gave him time to say two words, much less explain anything.

 

It was only two minutes later when Laura and Scott both exclaimed, simultaneously, “Wait, Derek?” despite Stiles not having said anything yet. Then Laura was upon him, pulling his arm up almost painfully fast to show off his equally blank wrist to anyone looking.

 

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed and beamed down at him. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

 

“You’re definitely conscious,” Derek replied. “But I wouldn’t put hallucinations past you, to be honest.”

 

That earned him a smack on the head, but it was worth it for the intense hug he got afterward. Derek locked eyes with Stiles across the room and found himself smiling just as widely as the singer, but both of their grins dropped when Peter stomped a foot and clapped loudly at the same time, shouting to get the attention on him.

 

“Not that I’m not overcome with joy about the bonding of soul mates in this cosmic beauty that is life, but we have a show to put on, and no one is paying attention to their jobs,” he shouted. “Now if my crew mates would be so kind as to resume scouting for security threats, that would be lovely. Thank you.”

 

“Like a lead balloon,” Laura murmured by Derek. Peter’s head snapped around as though he’d heard her, but he was just far enough away that he could only have noticed her voice and not what she’d said. After a careful scrutiny of his niece, Peter narrowed his eyes and walked away to scare some poor temp crew member into doing more of a job than necessary. “Oh, Derek,” Laura sighed once he was gone, the smile returning to her face.

 

“I know. Trust me, I know.” Derek ran his left hand over his bare right wrist. “It’s so weird for them not to be there.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, walking over. “I kinda miss them.”

 

“Yours?” Laura asked, unaware of the previous state of Stiles’ wrist.

The singer laughed and shook his head. “No. Derek’s. No numbers. No wristband. It’s like you’re a totally different person, dude.”

 

“You too. I can see your whole arm. It’s like a scandal,” Derek teased back and Laura groaned beside them, drawing their attentions away from each other. At first Derek thought she was going to make some comment about them being cheesy or cute, but the expression on her face suggested she was honestly upset about something, and his brow knit together curiously.

 

“Scandal. Oh my gosh. People are going to notice when you stop wearing your arm coverings,” she explained. “Oh man. This is going to make people explode. I need to go talk to Melissa right away. Derek-.“ She paused, remembering Derek wasn’t on the security team, and looked him over. “Um… Call me on my cell if anything happens.”

 

And then she left them, going to find Melissa in some waiting room.

 

“She’s right, you know,” Derek murmured. “Your fans are going to have aneurisms when they see. Sure you don’t want to keep wearing the bandages?”

 

“I’m sure,” Stiles said and ruffled Derek’s hair like a kid’s, earning a grunt of annoyance. “I’ve been ashamed of my wrist for five years because of the scars. But this? Finding my soul mate? I’m not ashamed of that. If the world explodes because of me finally feeling fixed, being better – I can live with it.”

 

He leaned down then and planted a simple, single kiss on Derek’s lips. “Okay then,” Derek muttered. At that moment, Stiles could have asked for anything and Derek would have agreed.

\-- -- -- --

 

Scandal was a bit strong. Not that the internet didn’t explode the moment Stiles walked out on stage sans wristbands the following night, blank wrist plain to see. Photos went up so fast that it was hard to catch them all on Twitter or anywhere for that matter. It seemed to Derek that Stiles was purposely putting his wrist in easily viewable places, like waving his arm above his head to greet everyone and then holding it there while everyone lost their minds, or reaching down to high five the audiences with that hand, palm and wrist up for them to see, instead of using his left hand like he normally would have.

 

Not that Derek could really blame him. If there was going to be an explosion over this, might as well make it a flash fire and let it burn itself out, right?

 

Peter prowled the backstage area like a paranoid, rabid dog, muttering under his breath about risks and idiots and how Stiles was basically asking to be mobbed, and yeah maybe he had a point, but Derek knew the whole team was on point, and they were the best in the business, so mob or no mob, Stiles would be fine… barring homicidal SUVs. Then Stiles would still be fine, but Derek would probably have to go back to the hospital.

 

The halfway point in the concert came and Stiles bounced offstage, sweat making his clothes stick to him and his voice airy with exertion. Someone pulled his first set shirt off him and handed him a second one, which he pulled on as quickly as he could. Derek had been privy to this moment a few times, but not with Stiles standing three feet from him and staring at him as much as possible.

 

“Stiles, are you posing for the pictures on purpose?” Melissa asked, holding up her phone to an image on Twitter where his wrist was perfectly lit by the stage lights and captured with a really good camera. Derek couldn’t decide if she was upset or not, but he didn’t think she was dangerous, so he stayed seated.

 

“Kinda,” Stiles said, and his voice was a note deeper than normal. When Stiles looked back at Derek, he smirked. “Might as well let the world know now before they start rumors about it first. Get ahead of the gossip for once.”

 

He pushed a hand over his damp hair, but it just flopped back into place, and he laughed while Peter growled off to the side. The smile on Derek’s face was caused by several things. Stiles and he had similar thoughts about why to spread the news quick. Stiles looked damn good, panting and grinning down at Derek, sweat already showing through his new shirt. Stiles was happy. He was honestly happy, and Derek had never seen him look so… free.

 

A new beat started on stage, Stiles’ cue to head back out, and the stagehand offered him his new jacket. He pulled it on, flipping it up onto his shoulders, and usually he would immediately turn and hop back on stage, but this time he didn’t. This time he stepped to Derek, bent down, grabbed his face, and kissed him hard. His hands were damp and hot and his hair left sweat on Derek’s forehead, but that was good too.

 

Then, just as Melissa was opening her mouth to urge him on, Stiles pulled back and grabbed his mic from a different stagehand. When he ran back onto the stage, adrenaline obviously surging through him, the crowd roared with excitement and he cheered right back at them.

 

Maybe it was another sign toward Derek’s mental state when it involved Stiles that he didn’t notice his own sister had come to stand beside him. When she finally spoke up, halfway through the new song, Derek actually jumped in his seat, surprised.

 

“I guess it’s really true then,” she said.

 

“What is?” he asked, finally wiping his forehead on his sleeve to get rid of the sweat.

 

“You’re soul mates. Not that I doubted you,” she added quickly, holding up a hand slightly to stop any comments from him. She turned back to look at the stage and smiled warmly. “But he looks so happy. You look so happy too.”

 

“Better than with Paige?” Derek asked and smashed the side of his fist into his mouth to try and wipe his smile away.

 

Laura’s sisterly grin was full of words – like “You’re an idiot” and “I love you” and “You’re adorable” – but when she spoke, she just said, “Far better than Paige.”

 

And for two songs, it seemed the world was finally balanced. Derek was happy. Stiles was happy. Tomorrow they’d have to start fielding questions about Stiles’ wrist, and sure a mob was possible, but it was nothing the security team wasn’t already prepared for. Peter was surly, but that wasn’t unusual. And Derek had no idea where the four star crossed lovers were or how they were faring, but for just a moment he didn’t care.

 

He was just enjoying the concert and watching the energy radiate off Stiles.

 

Obviously he should have expected trouble to pop up, but he still wasn’t prepared when Jordan slowly but determinedly strutted over to the siblings. Keeping his voice even quieter than necessary, he greeted them and then stood very close to Derek. Uncomfortably close, actually.

 

“Everything alright?” Derek asked, glancing up at his favorite assistant head of security.

 

Jordan flicked his fingers out where they were resting by his side, and if Derek hadn’t been so close he wouldn’t have noticed why that was important, but he was, and he saw the crumpled plastic bag barely hiding behind Jordan’s fingers. Discretely, he reached up and took it from the other man.

 

“What’s this?” he asked. In the bag were three spent matches and a zippo lighter.

 

“I’m trying not to involve Peter, cause he doesn’t really deserve to be part of taking Kate down after what we all know he did last time,” Jordan answered quietly, but Laura was close enough and she took a step even closer when she saw how serious he looked. “I found these.”

 

“I know. A month ago,” Derek said, handing the bag back. Jordan quickly pushed it into his pocket.

 

“No. Five minutes ago,” Jordan corrected, and Derek’s whole face went hard. Jordan took a deep breath, looking between the two Hales. “She’s here.”

 

“Where did you find them?” Laura asked. Derek’s chest felt too cold to make words. All he kept thinking what that Stiles was on stage, happy and carefree, and who was going to shove him to safety if a light fell or someone tried to shoot him or his microphone exploded again?

 

“By the stage door, just like last time. But we’re hundreds of miles from there. And I still don’t understand. Why a lighter and matches?” Jordan asked, his lips pressed slightly together as he tried not to appear too worried.

 

They were silent for a short moment, and then Laura nodded at her own thoughts. “Jordan, take three of our people and look for anything that could be used to start a fire. Start with the stage area and then spread out,” she said.

 

“On it,” and Jordan was already calling the attention of the nearest guards with hand motions instead of the radio.

 

Fire? Derek frowned. What if they didn’t find anything in time? Was there anywhere she could be hiding that they wouldn’t have seen? They had guards everywhere. How did she keep getting in?

 

“I’m going to help,” Derek said, pushing himself to his feet, his crutches steady on the ground.

 

“No. You’re not. Sit down. If Stiles looks this way and you’re gone, what do you think he’ll do? You’ll shatter his concentration. Stay like a good soul mate. We’ll figure this out,” Laura ordered, pushing him gently back down.

 

And he knew she was right. Of course she was right. Stiles looked in his direction right at that moment, further proving how right she was.  Derek smiled at him, pushing all worry from his face. If any still showed, Stiles was too blinded by the stage lights to notice, and he returned his gaze to the audience.

 

Laura stepped away to get a better view of the area beyond the stage, of the crowd, and Derek’s brow knit tight together. How? How had Kate gotten in to loosen the light? How had she gotten on property to slash the tires without anyone seeing her? How had she gotten her hands on the microphone when it was packed away with Stiles’ stuff? The only people who ever touched the mic besides Stiles were-

 

Derek frowned and shifted in his chair, his eyes scanning the crew backstage. Surely if she was here, Derek would have noticed her, right? He knew her face. So did Laura. So did Peter. There was no way she could have gotten passed all three of them tonight, right?

 

There was a brunette woman leaning against the wall, just a foot to the left of a hallway, her eyes on the stage. Her posture was powerful, prepared, and that’s what got Derek’s attention first. Her face was in shadow, blocked by the brim of her baseball style hat and her bangs, but her uniform, including the hat, were of the company Stiles used for his stage crew. But if she was crew, she’d be prepped to give the band a guitar. She’d be prepping water for Stiles for his last jump off stage between songs. She wouldn’t just be lounging.

 

She noticed Derek’s curious gaze, though, and even in the shadow of her hat, he could see her smile. Her hand came up in a tiny wave, her fingers wiggling in his direction, and then she pushed off the wall. A light caught her just right and Derek’s heart turned to stone.

 

“Laura,” he called, but not loud enough to be heard on stage.

 

The woman turned and walked calmly down the hall while Derek tried to stand up and walk after her at the same time he tried to put his crutches to use, and he stumbled on his first step. Laura’s hands caught him and righted him.

 

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing at the empty mouth of the hallway and back at her brother.

 

“Kate. She went down the hall. She’s wearing a brown wig and crewman’s uniform,” Derek explained quickly.

 

Without hesitation, Laura smashed the button on her headset and alerted everyone. There were guards down that hall. Someone was bound to come across her. And now everyone knew what they were looking for. They could catch her. As soon as Laura’s announcement finished, Peter was beside her.

 

“What?” he hissed in a whisper. “Kate Argent?” And Derek couldn’t tell if he was angry or scared. Perhaps a bit of both. Two men nodded at the Hales and took off down the hallway.

 

“Yes, Uncle Peter. Kate Argent,” Laura answered, voice clipped. They didn’t have time for this. “Are you going to chase after her?”

 

“Oh please,” Peter said with a tiny laugh. “If she’s here and she let you see her, she’s not sticking around. Why waste my energy chasing her when she’s already gone? No, let the grunts do the work for once.” Then his face went serious. “Do we know why she was here? What her plan was?”

 

“Fire,” Derek said, deadpan. “Jordan took a group to do a sweep.”

 

God, he wished he had a headset right now, to hear every little update, to know when and where Jordan or the others found anything. He was starting to feel like a bad luck charm. The worst thing to happen to Stiles while Derek was gone was the article. Before that, Stiles had had a very quiet month.

 

Laura covered her ear, blocking out the concert in order to hear an update, and Derek held his breath. He desperately wanted to run after Kate himself, but he had no speed as he was now. He was useless.

 

With a frown, Laura turned to him and said, “She took down two of our guards and made it out the side door. They lost her on the street when she hopped in a black corvette. The plates were covered. Damn it.”

 

“We can deal with her later,” Derek said, shifting his weight to better distribute it on his crutches.

 

“Derek’s right, for once,” Peter said, earning a glare from his nephew. “We need to worry about anything she left behind.”

 

There was a pause while Peter and Laura heard more from their radios and then Laura sighed. “Well Jordan hasn’t found anything. At least not backstage.”

 

With a huff of aggravation, Peter turned and stalked several feet away before pacing back to them. “Wow, Peter,” Derek said, eyebrows rising. “I didn’t realize you would be so protective of Stiles.”

 

“It’s my _job_ , Derek. Not all of us are only good at our jobs when they involve our soul mates,” Peter sneered. “Do you know what’ll happen to my reputation, to _our_ reputation, if we let Kate get away with this? Keep letting her get away with it? We could lose the business.”

 

“Like we lost the business eight years ago?” Derek asked with a growl and Peter stopped pacing. “Yeah. You were _really_ good at your job then, weren’t you? But of course you just remember all the ways you blamed it on other people. Not the person who actually died.”

 

“Watch yourself, Derek,” Peter spat. “Or you might find yourself on mail room duty until you’re fifty.”

 

“Well maybe you’ll find yourself in prison until you’re eighty,” Derek snapped back. “For accidental manslaughter.”

 

“Impertinent-!” Peter began, but Laura got between the two of them, cutting him off. Which was good, because that one word had already been a tag too loud.

 

Before either of them could complain, she held up one finger in each of their faces and cast them both a warning glare. “We. Don’t. Have. Time. For. This,” she enunciated slowly. “Fight later. Work now.”

 

Right again. Peter wasn’t worth risking Stiles. Just the thought of losing Stiles, especially so soon after learning they were soul mates, made Derek nauseated. It was like being sucked into a dark hole – cold and cramped and not enough oxygen.

 

“Wait,” he said, catching his family’s attention. Tapping his crutch on the ground, he frowned. “Is this stage hollow underneath?”

 

Laura went a little pale and walked quickly away, over to one of the stage crew that worked for the building, not the tour. They were too far away to hear, but the female worker was nodding, forehead knit together. Then she led Laura over to the area where Kate had been standing and pointed at the floor.

 

Bending down, Laura lifted the floor latch and stared down into the poorly lit area. Footsteps caught her attention and announced the return of Jordan, who she caught before he could pass her, and after a quick explanation the two descended into the floor.

 

It was the most stressful five minutes of Derek’s life. Five minutes. Why would it take five minutes to give a report unless they’d found something… or unless someone found them. Even Peter was tense and silent beside him. Stiles’ song, “If You’re Gone”, was actually one of Derek’s favorites, but even that was just background static as he waited for Laura to come back up.

 

The song was almost over when Laura’s head popped back into view and Derek let out a long and heavy breath.  She climbed back to floor level and then turned to help Jordan carefully lift something out. It had an oddly shaped body and multiple wires, and at first Derek didn’t recognize what it could be, but then Peter hissed next to him and for some reason that knocked the truth into Derek.

 

That was a tiny, homemade bomb.

 

“Is it live?” Peter asked when Derek and he had crossed the area between them and the other two. The stage hands were giving them a wide berth and someone had run off to find Melissa while another called the cops.

 

“Still volatile but not dangerous as long as we’re careful,” Laura explained and handed it to the nearest guard, instructing them to take it out back and guard it there. “See, Uncle Peter, if you knew anything about your employees they might actually like you. Mr. Parrish here might not bomb squad, but he did do the training. He disarmed it, but it’s still potentially dangerous.”

 

“Was there a candle on top?” Derek asked, watching the guard turn stiffly around the hallway corner.

 

“Yeah. There was some kind of string around it near the top. I guess it was Kate’s low cost way of building in a timer so she could get away before it went off. That or she’s just weird and dramatic,” Jordan said, wiping his hands on his sleeves. “It’s virtually harmless right now. The bomb squad can dispose of it properly, but I neutralized the immediate threat of explosion.”

 

Relief hit Derek hard and he moved both crutches to one hand so he could pull Jordan into a one armed hug. The slightly younger male laughed and pat his back in response.

 

“Thank you,” Derek said. They were safe. For today, at least, they were safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 13:
> 
> Now that his hormones have settled, Derek can focus on some new facts: that Scott’s relationship issues are far more complicated than his own, that he’s a better security guard than his uncle, and that his hormones and relationship issues over the past month may actually be the key to finding and stopping Kate Argent for good – but is it already too late?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that his hormones have settled, Derek can focus on some new facts: that Scott’s relationship issues are far more complicated than his own, that he’s a better security guard than his uncle, and that his hormones and relationship issues over the past month may actually be the key to finding and stopping Kate Argent for good – but is it already too late?

Chapter 13

 

The calm of peace and safety lasted through the night. Derek was back on the tour bus, something he didn’t expect to happen again, only this time things were different. This time he travelled strictly on Stiles’ bus, not on the second bus like he did before with Laura. He would bet the only reason Peter was okay with that was because he knew Derek. If Stiles’ soul mate had turned out to be some random roadie, Peter would have had reservations.

 

On the bus, Stiles insisted Derek not sleep on the couch, which meant he was in Stiles’ bed. They weren’t cuddling or anything, just sharing the same mattress, which was barely big enough for the two of them.  They faced opposite walls, both strikingly aware of the other, and slept with their backs hardly an inch apart. Still, it was something new. And they drew comfort from the proximity.

 

In the morning, Peter was the first to scold them for lewd behavior on a tour bus. “Honestly, Derek, you should know better. Soul mates or not, Stiles is busy, and you should not be distracting him, or his bus mates, with your inappropriate behavior.”

 

After him, Laura was the first to tease them about their sleeping arrangement. “Oooh? Sleeping together already? How scandalous, Derek. Simply raunchy. Hope you didn’t keep the others up with all the fun you two had.”

 

Neither one was interested in the fact that nothing at all had happened. Stiles and Derek did nothing to encourage the teasing, and they weren’t given the option of disproving the jests either. So they just shrugged in unison and listened to all the assumptions in complacent silence over breakfast at IHOP.

 

Truth be told, all those teases had crossed Derek’s mind the night before. How could they not have? Stiles and he were soul mates. Destined to be together and be happy. And even before discovering that, they’d both been fiercely physically attracted to one another. It only made sense that they’d both want to take it to the next level now that they knew it was meant to be.

 

Except what if Stiles didn’t want to? What if he wanted to wait? It was very common for people to still want to wait until they got married to have sex, or for their careers to get to a certain place before they focused more on their relationships. What if Stiles hadn’t tried to start anything last night because he was too focused on his tour or his music to worry about sex? It would make sense, especially considering Matt Daehler, and Derek wouldn’t blame him. Derek just wanted to know where Stiles stood on the subject, really.

 

“One more show and this tour is over,” Scott said after the topic of conversation had drifted away from Stiles and Derek’s personal life. The assistant manager’s eyes drifted over to Kira, who was sitting at a different table with her father, and then over to a third table full of Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey, Jordan Parrish, and Lydia’s mother, before his eyes focused back on his own plate.

 

“Yeah. Then it’s back to the studio,” Stiles said with a nod. “Oh, speaking of which. I’ve been working on a song with Boyd. When we’re done with the tour, Derek, you should swing by the studio. I want you to hear it.”

 

“Sure thing,” Derek agreed, and while he said it mostly to get Stiles to stop talking, he meant it. Then he turned to Scott and nodded toward the other table once they made eye contact. “You okay, Scott?”

 

“What? Oh. Yeah. I’m good.” Scott set his fork down and frowned at his plate. Melissa’s hand was on his shoulder instantly. “It’s just that… I know polyamory is a thing. I knew it was possible to have multiple soul mates. But, dude. Three? What am I supposed to do with three soul mates? Do I have to buy them all flowers at the same time if I buy some for one of them? Or-Or chocolate? Dude, I don’t have the kind of funding. I didn’t even know how to handle the idea of having to dote on one person. I’m going to suck so hard at this.”

 

With a chuckle, Melissa shook her head, and Scott gave her a hurt look. “Honey, don’t even worry about it. Christmas might be tough, and when you all decide on an Anniversary, that could be tough, but otherwise you don’t have to woo them all at the same time. They’re not going to expect extravagance. They just expect you.”

 

Stiles coughed as he almost choked on his eggs. Gulping down some water, he then cleared his throat and stared in awe at his best friend. “Whoa, so it’s official then? You all match with all of you?”

 

Despondent, Scott nodded. “I mean… I’m happy. They’re all great people, even though I barely know Isaac and me and Allison have always been cordial. And Kira is always great. I’m sure it’ll all work out, but I’m just… I don’t know. I’m just-”

 

“You’re nervous. A little bit scared. That’s fine. You thought your soul mate was Kira, and you were working yourself up to handle that responsibility, and now she is, but you’ve got two more too. It makes sense that you’re overwhelmed. Don’t try to take it all in at once,” Derek said and then bit into a piece of bacon.

 

“Obi-wan over here,” Stiles teased and shared a grin with Derek. Scott just looked confused. “Oh, come on, dude.”

 

“What? I haven’t seen Star Wars,” Scott defended.

 

Stiles threw a hand out toward Scott. “See? You recognize where it’s from. Stop acting like you don’t get it.”

 

While Scott dropped his head down and groaned, Derek shot a quick look at Stiles, trying to impress upon him the seriousness of the situation. Stiles, of course, replied with a look that said what? He was just trying to lighten things up and make Scott not be so tense about it. Which Derek had to admit was a pretty good idea, but he couldn’t just admit that, with words or his eyebrows.

 

“Dang it. I mean, do you think I should go sit with them or something? Or I could sit with Kira and her dad?” Scott proposed before absent-mindedly gnawing on a biscuit.

 

“No,” Melissa cut in sharply, setting her utensils down on her empty plate. Almost choking on his biscuit, Scott snapped his head to the side to stare with wide eyes at his mother’s harsh tone. When she next spoke, Melissa’s tone was almost quizzical, and she shrugged. “There’s no room at Allison’s table and you’re almost done eating. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to move now, does it?”

 

“I… I guess not.” Scott frowned down at his plate as though it were to blame. “You’re right.”

 

“Well don’t sound so displeased by that,” Melissa said with a tiny laugh. “Look. Everything’s gonna be fine. You’re all soul mates. You’ll work it out, even if you decided not to be together all at once. And no matter what happens, you have plenty of non-romantic soul mates here for you, and we’ll always be here for you. Unless, you know, a stage light falls on us or a bomb goes off.”

 

“Mom,” Scott whined, but it had a teasing note to it and there was a smile on his face. Melissa leaned over and gave him a quick hug before ruffling his hair, and by the time Scott was finished fixing his now messy hair, a lot of the tension had fallen off his shoulders.

 

The mother-son dynamic was kind of beautiful, and Derek had no problem letting his thoughts about that show on his face. When he finally looked away from the now-relaxed Scott, he saw Stiles giving him a strange look, as though Derek had suddenly said something in a language he didn’t understand. With one raised eyebrow, Derek questioned him, but Stiles just shook off his confused expression and shrugged like nothing was wrong. Then all conversation, spoken or silent, was lost to Stiles inhaling the last of his eggs.

\-- -- -- --

 

With his hormones back in shape, Derek was an even better security guard than before, and he wasn’t even technically working security anymore. Laura and he decided to bring on more security after the bomb scare, and the local police were on site now. Kate’s picture was even on the news, and fans on Twitter declared their intent to keep an eye out for her at the shows. Their support was touching.

 

Kate wasn’t a problem for the next couple of days though. Derek hung out in the background at the last signing of the tour and sent one of the guards on duty to escort someone away because he noticed the man was inebriated before the fan got within thirty feet of Stiles.

 

Derek was with Stiles for a photoshoot, where he found himself giving a stern talk to the company’s head of security over four weaknesses Derek had found just by walking into the building and up to the shoot location. He would have much preferred to be watching Stiles pose and be silly in different outfits, but his professional side wouldn’t leave him be.

 

And then, during the last minute prep of the last show, Derek pissed off Peter, which was always a good sign of being on your game. Someone, and by then they all knew who, had managed to switch out the water in Stiles’ bottles with vodka – which was an easy catch because of the smell. It was just as easy to replace the bottles with new, not tampered with ones. Mostly it was just annoying because no one could figure out how she kept sneaking past them.

 

But Derek’s biggest success was about ventilation shafts. Derek suspected plans using the ventilation shafts as soon as he spotted that several of the vents touched the outside of the building at easily accessible heights. Right in front of Peter, Derek had given the order to several of their employees to stand guard by all access points. And then the real kicker came when, halfway through the day, one man radioed in to say someone had tried to access a vent, but thanks to Derek’s direction, they’d been thwarted.

 

Thanks to _Derek’s_ direction.

 

Ever the alpha male, Peter decided to inform Derek of the unjustness of the situation by getting right up in his personal space and standing as tall as he could. “Derek, nephew, listen. You can’t keep acting like you’re in charge here. You know who’s in charge? Me. So stop telling my people what to do and where to go. You aren’t co-captaining this team anymore.”

 

And ever loyal to her brother, Laura stepped up too and gently pushed Peter back a step. “Well I’m still co-captain of this sausage fest, and I don’t mind a little consulting.”

 

“Yes, Laura, but you’re not being consulted. You’re being usurped. And I have to put my foot down and save your job as well as mine, or what will your mother think when the crew tells her Derek ran the show from his invalid seat while we did nothing?” Peter asked.

 

Talia Hale had only stayed long enough to congratulate Derek and hug Stiles. Then she’d hopped in her car and headed back to LA, although she mentioned stopping to buy some things on the way. Honestly, Derek was sure she made up the shopping to keep him from feeling guilty about her driving so far for such a short visit… and all for him, really.

 

“I’m sorry, Derek, but you’re going to have to vacate the premises,” Peter said, and his voice was calm and friendly, as though he were discussing how to bake a cake and not banning Derek from the stage.

 

Being scolded by his uncle was nothing new, especially after their major falling out eight years ago, but the order to stay away from the stages was not only unheard of, it was ridiculous.

 

“You can’t make him stay away,” Laura argued. “Stiles is his soul mate.”

 

“And that’s beautiful. I’m really struck speechless every time someone brings that up, which is every ten minutes. Trust me. It never gets old, the beauty of that sentiment. But I’m head of security, with seniority over you, co-captain or not, and so I say he can either leave the set himself or I can personally drag him back to the bus.” Peter’s smile was saccharine.

 

“For what reason? He’s an asset. He’s better than the majority of our men, and he’s been crucial to the early detection and neutralization of threats for the entirety of this tour,” Laura reminded.

 

And it was touching, really it was, that Laura would stand up for him and say such things about him. It was mostly true. Derek wasn’t so self-deprecating that he couldn’t admit he’d been more than a little helpful over the course of the tour. But Derek hadn’t exactly been the best guard dog before. His mind had been so wrapped up in his soul mate, in Jennifer and Stiles and…

 

And that was the key, wasn’t it?

 

Before Peter could start his comeback, Derek held up a hand to stop them both. “No, he’s right, Laura. I’m in the way here. Stiles is my soul mate, not my kid. I need to stop hovering.”

 

“Derek,” Laura complained, and he could already see her mind whirling, prepared to give him a reverse lecture, one that explained why he deserved to be there.

 

“No, I’m just going to go sit on the bus. I need to relax anyway.” Shuffling over with his crutches, Derek put a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder. “You’re just as capable as me, Laura. You’ll kick anyone’s ass who tries to mess with your show.”

 

“Including my uncle’s,” Laura agreed with a scoff, crossing her arms.

 

They ignored Peter’s indignant, “Hey!” in lieu of some meaningful staring. Then Derek squeezed her shoulder and said, “But can you ask Parrish to meet me there? I’ll need help with some crutch stuff, and I trust him the most.”

 

Laura’s stare went curious but serious, no doubt wondering about Derek using Jordan’s last name, as though the two weren’t friends, and Derek suggesting he wasn’t a master at his crutches by this point. But she didn’t voice any of her concerns. Instead she just nodded.

 

“Just don’t do anything stupid, Stupid,” she said, ruffling Derek’s hair before turning and ushering Peter back to the side stage to continue watching over Stiles.

 

Back at the bus, Derek sat on the bottom step inside the door and waited under the warm sun. The days had been cool, still clinging to winter, but there was a beautiful stream of heat caressing the area around the concert theater that day. If his thoughts hadn’t been so serious, Derek might have considered actually relaxing under the big, open sky.

 

In the distance he could hear the fans out front, waiting to be let in, and he thought of how Stiles had kissed him goodbye only minutes before. For good luck, he’d said, and Derek hoped it worked both ways – for Stiles during the concert and for Derek during his plan. The sun tingled on his skin and reminded him of that kiss, and part of him wanted to go back inside when the concert started, forget anything bad could happen.

 

In his state of his mind however, he stood up almost as soon as Jordan appeared at the back stage door and waited like a soldier under inspection.

 

“What’s up?” Jordan asked as he got closer. “Laura said you needed help with something. I mean, she mentioned crutches too, but I seriously doubt that’s the real reason you asked me to meet you.”

 

“No.” Derek smiled, proud of his coworker and friend. He understood Derek well, it seemed. “I need your help catching a criminal.”

 

Instantly on alert, Jordan’s eyes scanned the area. “Is Kate on the premises?”

 

Derek shook his head, drawing Jordan’s attention back. “Not today. But a thought occurred to me inside… and I think I may know where to find her.”

\-- -- -- --

 

The café was small, attached to a hotel, and was stuck in an awkward position between quaint and fancy. Derek entered alone, and a waitress greeted him promptly, helping him to an easily accessible table. Sometimes crutches were helpful. He reorganized the sugar packets in the cup that sat in the middle of the table and then frowned down at them.

 

Casting his eyes around, he tried to search for a head of blonde hair, but part of him suspected that Kate wouldn’t show up here. Ten minutes passed, and Derek kept his attention on everyone entering the café, unwilling to miss his target.

 

Then a woman with dark hair and red lips stepped in through the hotel entrance. Her pale purple cardigan stood out from the crowd and matched the pair of gloves on her hands, and when she finally spotted Derek, she found his eyes laying intensely on her. Back straight, she walked over to him in a stiff sashay and then lowered herself gracefully into the chair opposite him.

 

“How’s your leg?” she asked in greeting.

 

“Almost healed,” Derek answered and nudged the sugar container closer to her despite her having no drink. “How are you, Jennifer?”

 

Her eyes flickered down to his exposed wrist and she frowned. “Not as well as you, it would seem. Nothing’s hit the papers, but it’s Stiles, isn’t it?”

 

A nod was all it took and she let out a heavy sigh, laying her arms on the table. “I didn’t think so at first,” Derek admitted. “I was much happier being around you than with him in the beginning. He made me feel sick. You made me feel good.”

 

“What can I say? I have a gift,” Jennifer said like a jest, but Derek’s expression darkened at the words and her smile cut off abruptly.

 

“You do have a gift… don’t you?” Derek asked. He held his hand out for hers, and watched the indecision play out across her features. He was right, and he knew it. For a while, he’d forgotten about the tingling sensation he always got when Jennifer touched him. He’d been too distracted by Stiles. But distraction was the problem. In the beginning, he’d been so distracted by Jennifer that he hadn’t noticed the similar, more intense signs from Stiles.

 

Finally, after several long moments of a staring contest, Jennifer relented and pulled her left glove off. When her fingers slid over Derek’s hand, the familiar pleasant tingle wound its way through his body, but for once his mind and heart were not swayed. It was different this time.

 

Jennifer sighed. “It doesn’t work well on matched people,” she said, and Derek let her pull her hand away. “They’re balanced. Unmatched people are easier, and people in their month countdown are the easiest. Their hormones are so confused already that a little push from me can feel like an island in the middle of an ocean, and I’m the only one on it.”

 

“What is it? The aurasphere?” Derek asked, rubbing his hands together to rid them of the now odd sensation.

 

“Yes. I think I would have preferred to get that strange empathy most special people get, but nope. I just get skin that tricks people into thinking they like me… for a short while at least.” She shrugged and rolled the fabric of her glove between her bare fingers. “Is that why you’re here? You came to prove I was using you for my career? Did you want me to apologize?”

 

“Trying to further your career is not a bad quality,” Derek replied, proud at how calm he was. “Hurting people to do it, however, is not only a bad quality… it can also be illegal.”

 

“Are you angry with me?” Jennifer’s eyes were electric as she stared determinedly into Derek’s, unapologetic.

 

“I won’t be… if you tell me where she is.” Derek leaned forward then, arms resting on the table, and Jennifer leaned away.

 

Pursing her lips, she said, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

 

“Jennifer, you knew bad things about the set before anyone else did. My mind was foggy back then when it came to you, but there’s only one explanation now. How long have you been working with Kate Argent?”

 

“I’m not working with her,” Jennifer answered, lips barely opening for the words, and he knew she was lying. She was helping Kate Argent cause chaos at the concerts and events. She was helping spread the news and add oxygen to the flames. His leg ached in the knowledge that she’d helped Kate try to kill Stiles and only Derek had gotten in the way of those plans succeeding.

 

“Stop lying to me,” Derek growled, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention.

 

“I’m not lying,” Jennifer snapped back, and in the same instant, she ripped her right glove off, revealing her blank wrist. “We’re matched.”

 

Kate and Jennifer were… soul mates? They had been the entire time? No wonder Jennifer kept her wrist covered with thick bracelets. She couldn’t let her marks know she was already taken while she fooled around with their heads. Derek felt ill.

 

“Just because you’re bonded doesn’t mean you aren’t helping her hurt people. This goes way beyond slashed tires, Jennifer. She’s tried to kill people. She’s almost succeeded.” He clenched his fists on the table.

 

“No. Seriously injured, obviously, but we’ve never killed anyone.” The dark haired reporter adjusted her purse, preparing to leave.

 

“She used a bomb,” Derek hissed. “Are you telling me you’re so proud that you can’t admit that you’ve crossed the line?”

 

He couldn’t let her leave, not until he found out where Kate was. With his leg, he’d never be able to chase after her. He needed to information now.

 

“Is she here?” he asked. “Please, Jennifer. Before she does anymore damage, before either of you does something you can’t take back. Where is she?”

 

Lips pressed into a fine line, Jennifer slowly pushed herself to a standing position. “I should have played you harder,” she said. “You’re too persistent.”

 

“Jennifer,” Derek tried again, but she cut him off.

 

“The bomb under the stage was never our big play. None of it was. Everything you’ve stopped so far was just the fodder for the flames,” she snipped. “You’re here with me, so it doesn’t even matter if I tell you where Kate is or not. You’re already too late to stop her. Run back to your tour buses, Derek – if there’s anything left of them.”

 

Ice filled Derek’s stomach as she turned away from him. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, paying Jennifer no mind, and dialed Laura’s number. It rang. And rang. And rang. When Jennifer stepped back into the hotel, she was stopped by three police officers and Jordan Parrish.

 

Voicemail. Derek cursed and ended the call before dialing Stiles. It rang. And rang. And rang. Jordan stepped up beside him and reached into the sugar cup, pulling out a tiny listening device, which he then handed to the nearest officer. He was talking to the other man about something, but Derek only heard the ringing of Stiles not answering his phone.

 

Voicemail. Derek stood up and grabbed his crutches. He dialed his uncle.

 

“Jordan. We need to rejoin the others,” he said a bit too harshly as he got another voicemail, but Jordan looked as serious as he felt. Ignoring the confused and slightly frightened stares from some of the café patrons, the two hurried outside as quickly as they could.

 

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Jordan said, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car and waiting just long enough for Derek to get situated before he started driving. They were already moving when Derek shut his door.

 

“I’ll believe it when someone answers their phone,” Derek grunted and tried to reach Scott.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 Preview:  
> A wall of fire stands between Derek and Stiles, and the only hope Derek has left resides in his blank wrist that says Stiles is still alive. And he isn't the only one with cause for worry. Kira enlists the help of Jordan and Laura to quell the fire, but despite all efforts... one person won't make it out unharmed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wall of fire stands between Derek and Stiles, and the only hope Derek has left resides in his blank wrist that says Stiles is still alive. And he isn't the only one with cause for worry. Kira enlists the help of Jordan and Laura to quell the fire, but despite all efforts... one person won't make it out unharmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So sorry about the long, long wait. I’ve been writing notes for this story on paper at work since my last update but I’ve either been too busy to type it up or too distracted. Sorry sorry.
> 
> Also, please note the update to the story's rating. Due to the nature of Kate's attacks and certain things that happen next chapter (that were not actually part of the original plan) the rating has gone up. I apologize if this inconveniences anyone. I originally did not plan for the fic to need the higher rating.

They saw the smoke well before they pulled into the parking lot. Parrish was out of the car as soon as it was in park, shouting orders at the crowd of some thirty crew members who were standing around dumbstruck. His door was wide open and the car was beeping anxiously after him because he left the keys in the ignition. But Derek couldn’t breathe.

 

A hundred feet in front of him, Stiles’ tour bus was engulfed in flames. As far as he could tell it was just the exterior being marred, but he was terrified to get a closer look. The ground around the bus was littered with fire, licking at the soaking asphalt. Through Jordan’s open door, Derek could smell the thick, putrid scent of burning gasoline, and he almost threw up. He couldn’t see Stiles. He couldn’t see Stiles anywhere.

 

Stumbling out of the car, he tried to suck in air, but the fumes made him gag. People were running, trying to douse the flames with any source of water they could find, but the fire made a ten foot barrier around the bus. The fire clawed up the side of the metal, searching for weaknesses, searching for the gas tank, for anything it could burn, and Derek was reminded of a stage in starlight and a damaged power line.

 

Most people, even Peter thought he’d been too far away to see the accident, but he remembered it all clearly. He’d been just close enough to feel the heat of the flames, to hear Paige scream, and he remembered the way he’d screamed back, but no one had heard him over everyone and everything else. He’d tried to stop the accident from ever happening, had tried to warn his uncle and everyone else, but no one had listened. He’d been left as a sideline decoration, forced to watch tragedy ruin everything.

 

And now Stiles’ tour bus was on fire, and Stiles was probably on it, and Derek was on god damn crutches, and how the hell was he supposed to help? He couldn’t run through fire the way he could shield Stiles from a car. He couldn’t just push the bus out of the way like he could push Stiles out from under a stage light. He couldn’t do anything! He couldn’t-

 

“Derek!” Laura’s voice snapped him to attention and he gasped loudly. His sister grabbed his face and forced him to look away from the bus. “Derek, don’t look!”

 

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse, chest wrecked. “Laura-“

 

“They’re probably fine. The firemen are on their way. Breathe, Derek!” And at her words, he realized she was right – he hadn’t been breathing. He took an exaggerated breath to convince her he was listening. “Good. I need you, Derek. Give me your arm.”

 

He balanced on his crutches, held out his right arm, and watched as she shoved his sleeve out of the way. Her eyes were hard on his wrist, his still completely blank wrist. They both let out heavy sighs.

 

“Good,” Laura said, softer. If Stiles had been killed, Derek’s numbers would have returned, but thank god they hadn’t.

 

“Laura,” Derek began, bringing her eyes up to his. “You said ‘they’ are probably fine. Who’s they?”

 

He’d never seen his sister look so grim. “Stiles isn’t the only one on the bus,” she said. “Scott and Melissa are with him.”

 

Scanning the crowd quickly, Derek took only a moment to find Kira in the midst of it. Shy, timid Kira who ran away when she found out Scott was meant for Allison, who could barely look Derek in the eye, and who cared for Stiles when he was sick – and there she was, screaming angrily at Peter.

 

Shock didn’t quite cover the emotion that hit Derek first, but pride was definitely what followed. Peter was a statue, eyes glued to the fire and unblinking. Until Derek got closer, he couldn’t even tell his uncle was breathing. For a moment, he didn’t understand the look on Peter’s face, but then he realized the truth. Peter was experiencing the same thing Derek had – he was reliving the fire, only Peter had been much, much closer to that fire, and none of Kira’s shouting was going to bring him out of it.

 

Moving as quickly as his crutches would let him, Derek came up by the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder. She spun on him, prepared to continue shouting, and stopped abruptly.

 

“Derek-?” she gasped, and that’s when her face got tight and her eyes started watering.

 

“He’s not going to listen,” Derek said calmly.

 

“But he’s in charge! He’s supposed to be doing something! Anything!” Kira declared, her tears not escaping.

 

“He can’t,” Derek stressed. “I can’t. But you can. So do what you can do.”

 

For a moment, it seemed she was lost, her wet eyes flickering back and forth between different parts of everything happening, and then she nodded. Her body went tense as she clenched her fists and then she was running into the concert hall. The concert was over, and the entire team was gathered in the back lot, around the fire, so Derek had no idea where she was going, but he let her go regardless.

 

Once she disappeared through the stage door, Derek’s eyes immediately went back to the bus. He searched the windows, but they were covered by the blinds and he couldn’t see anything. Good, he thought. There was no orange glow from inside. There was no smoke between the glass and the blinds. The fire was still outside… hopefully.

 

Sirens wailed as fire trucks headed their way, and Derek only hoped it would be in time. He could see the hood of the bus starting to smoke and he hoped that didn’t mean the engine was on fire. Cursing, he looked down at his wrist.

 

Still blank.

 

He pulled his phone out and took a deep breath of the clogged air before dialing Stiles again. Did he even have his phone on him if he’d just gotten off stage? It rang and rang, but this time when the voicemail picked up, Derek didn’t end the call.

 

“Hey, you’ve reached Stiles. Can’t pick up the phone right now cause I’m super busy, but leave me an awesome message and I’ll get back to you sometime between the recording studio and the stage. Stay cool!”

 

“Stiles,” he said into the vacuum of the voicemail. “I know you can’t hear me right now, but the firemen are almost here. I can’t run through fire to get to you or Scott or anyone – I can’t save you from this one, but you have to be saved. Understand? Stay low. Stay alive long enough for them to get to you. Hear me? Get through this, because I need to talk to you about something important… I’ll see you in a few minutes. Bye.”

 

Their relationship was too young for it to end so soon, and Derek refused to believe he could lose his soul mate so quickly. Stiles was fine. His wrist said so.

 

Kira burst back onto the scene, three fire extinguishers in her arms. She handed one to Jordan as she rushed past him, and then she ran to Laura with the other. Before the fire trucks were even within viewable distance, the three of them puffed out little bursts of CO2 onto the burning asphalt, making their way closer and closer to the bus.

 

By the time the trucks finally did pull up, the ground had mostly stopped burning. Kira looked back at Derek meaningfully, and he nodded in agreement before turning and moving over to greet the firemen. He explained the situation, how many were trapped, and what had been done so far. Then he could only watch as they hooked up their hoses and started spraying down the bus. Kira, Jordan, and Laura scrambled to the side like a startled trio of birds when the fire captain shouted at them, and there they fluctuated between bristling with indignation and bouncing in anticipation.

 

Derek was still. He didn’t bounce. He didn’t shift. He just stood to the side and watched as the powerful spray of water fought against the burning gas. Sometimes it seemed the fire would win, moving away from the spray to spring up somewhere else, and the fight went on for far too long. But then, slowly, the fire lost its grip and caved under the oppressive smothering of the water.

 

An ambulance pulled up about then, but Derek wasn’t paying attention to them. He watched as two firefighters pried open the bus door and looked in at a scorched stairwell. So the fire had gotten inside. Derek’s gut twisted painfully.

 

The two men climbed the narrow steps, and every moment they were out of sight gave Derek a heart attack. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t help. He could only wait, and it tore him open.

 

Someone walked backwards down the steps. It was one of the firefighters. Then the second one’s legs became visible. They were gently carrying someone between them, and it seemed the whole parking lot was holding its breath.

 

It wasn’t Stiles. It was Melissa.

 

Her shirt had been half burnt off, and her visible shoulder was an angry, distorted red and black. At first Derek thought she was unconscious, but as they carried her past him to the ambulance, he saw her eyes were open and she was mumbling incoherently. Tearing his eyes from her and her burns, Derek looked back at the bus, waiting for Stiles.

 

There were no more firefighters on board, but someone was stumbling down the stairs. Two legs. No four. And then Stiles’s face became visible, unmarred but anxious. Scott’s arm was around his shoulder, and while the assistant manager didn’t appear to have any wounds, he leaned heavily on Stiles and was a sickly pale.

 

“Scott!” Kira shouted and ran to help support him. Scott looked impossibly grateful to see her and once his arm was around her shoulders, he leaned his head against hers and started crying.

 

The trio moved as quickly as they could over to the ambulance so they could sit Scott down by his mom. The paramedics were setting her up on a gurney, and then starting up first aid as they loaded her into the vehicle. Paramedics flocked around Scott and Stiles too, but the singer waved them off, actually batting at the hands of one woman who reached for him. He turned, eyes looking back at the bus and at Derek, who stood in the way.

 

“Derek.” His name was almost too quiet to hear, but it drew Derek out of his panic and he let out the heaviest breath possible before sucking in a new lungful.

 

“Stiles,” he said and took one impeded step toward the singer. Then Stiles shook his head and did all the walking. He moved swiftly, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Derek’s torso and holding on tight.

 

“Oh my god, Dude. I thought we were gonna die,” he admitted softly into Derek’s shoulder. “I was… I was so scared.”

 

“Me too.” Derek let his crutches drop and supported himself on his one good leg so he could wrap Stiles up properly in his arms. “But you’re okay. You’re all gonna be okay.”

 

“Melissa-,” Stiles started but Derek shook his head.

 

“She’s going to be fine,” he assured.

 

They stood that way for a long time, long enough for the ambulance to drive away with its three new passengers – Melissa, Scott, and Kira, long enough for their police detail to finish doing a sweep of the area, long enough that it should have been uncomfortable but it wasn’t, because as long as they were holding on to each other, it meant they were both alive.

 

“What about Kate?” Stiles murmured finally.

 

“I’m going to find her,” Derek murmured back.

 

“Oh yeah? And then what?” Stiles asked with a small snort of disbelief.

 

“And then I’m going to kill her.”

\-- -- -- --

 

This tour had far too many hospital visits on the pay roll. First Stiles got electrical burns on his hand. Then Derek got a broken leg. And on the final day of the tour, Melissa was admitted for second-degree burns to the right side of her torso and shoulders.

 

Day one, no one was admitted to see Melissa. Nurses had to carefully strip her clothing off and wash her. She was bandaged and given an IV and monitored closely. She was drowsy from the pain meds and often slept, the doctor informed the group in the waiting room, but she would be fine.

 

Scott was treated for smoke inhalation and, after a brief talk with the on-site psychologist, was given anti-anxiety medication for the duration of his hospital stay. Kira never left his side, except for the brief time she needed to use the bathroom. He was never alone, however, because his phone rang part way through day one with a call from Allison and Isaac, who were halfway across the country. Not only had they heard the news on television and the internet, but their arms had been severely uncomfortable where their numbers used to be.

 

All in all, both McCall’s were getting the best help possible for their situations.

 

Stiles was virtually unharmed. Beyond his panic over almost dying, he had no smoke inhalation problems, no burns, not even a scratch. As he was the only uninjured party, he was the first to give the police a description of what happened.

 

“We were just heading back to the bus after the concert. Everything was normal, you know? And then Scott pointed out that there were like… three hoses lying randomly around the bus. I was already on the bus, well on the steps anyway, but I noticed Kate Argent outside behind Scott and Ms. McCall. She had a lighter, like a little red one you grab at the cash register as a last minute idea, right? And she had this big canister beside her where all the hoses connected. And when she had my attention, she turned a nozzle on the canister and all the hoses started hissing and spewing gasoline everywhere. It got Ms. McCall in the arm as she pushed me and Scott backwards into the bus more. It was all over the stairs and my shoes and-And then Kate lit the lighter and tossed it at us and the parking lot went up in flames and-”

 

Stiles had to stop, his breathing becoming erratic, and he pressed his arm over his chest the way he used to do when his scars would ache. But he had no scars now, and Derek recognized the start of a panic attack before the cop did. He stepped up beside Stiles and ran his fingers down the singer’s pale arm, gently coaxing it away from his chest. By the time Derek had the arm in his grip, his left hand cradling the forearm and the right hand gently drawing circles over Stiles’ wrist, the younger man was breathing normally.

 

“Melissa got the door to the bus shut, but not before a spark got in and lit up the stairs and her shirt. Scott pulled her up the stairs and smothered the fire with the blanket from the couch. I grabbed the fire extinguisher from the closet and put out the stairs, and when I turned around, Scott had his mom propped up in the corner and he was trying to find something cold for her shoulder. I grabbed the first aid kit, but there was no burn cream in it. By then, smoke was starting to come in through the cracks around the doors and Scott pulled me down to the floor with him and his mom. He folded the blanket so the slightly burnt side was away from me and then he draped it over my head. He told me to breathe slowly and then he curled over me, and we stayed that way until the fire hoses stopped. I wanted to get up sooner, when the water started, but Scott wouldn’t let me. He said the smoke would hurt my throat. He said…. He said I was a singer and my career would be over if he let the smoke get to me, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.”

 

“And did you happen to see which way Ms. Argent ran afterward?” the officer asked, voice calm and soft in an attempt to seem less threatening and cold-hearted, but Stiles glared at him anyway.

 

“I was a little distracted by my mom burning alive in front of me. Sorry,” he said, and he didn’t sound sorry at all.

 

“Your mom?” the officer asked, forehead creasing.

 

Derek stepped in then, a hand on Stiles’ tense shoulder. “The McCalls and the Stilinskis are very close. Melissa has been like Stiles’ second mom since his mother passed away. They’re family.”

 

“Oh, I see.” And Derek wasn’t sure if the officer was more observant of Stiles’ feelings toward Melissa or of Stiles’ feelings toward the officer himself. The glare on the singer’s face left nothing to the imagination when it came to his regard for this little statement interview. Clearing his throat, the officer said, “I think I have all I need from you, Mr. Stilinski. Thank you, and I assure you we’re doing everything we can to apprehend Kate Argent. Good night.”

 

When they were alone again, Derek led Stiles to a chair and they sat for several long minutes in silence, the tension slowly, slowly leaving Stiles’ shoulders. Derek was always within reach, but he’d never been a touchy kind of guy, and while he found a newfound pleasure in touching Stiles, he also knew that there were times when people just didn’t want to be touched.

 

Eventually, however, Stiles leaned over the arms of the chairs so that their shoulders were pressed heavily together. He sighed and Derek grunted in agreement. In the returning silence afterward, Derek checked his phone and saw a message from Laura. She’d left to check on Peter at the hotel, and according to her message he was still shaken but trying to pretend he wasn’t by jumping down her throat about everything.

 

“Were you serious?” Stiles asked.

 

“About what?” Derek asked and opened a reply message. He told her to knock Peter out with sleeping meds and leave him on the side of the road. With a little ‘jk’ added in, of course.

 

“About killing Kate,” Stiles said in a hushed rush. When Derek looked over at him, the singer’s eyes were scanning the room to see if someone had heard him.

 

Gently, he put a hand over Stiles’ on the arm rest, and Stiles jumped in surprise, head snapping back to look at him. Derek tried to put every serious thought he had into his expression and frowned. “Stiles, she’s out of control. Of course I’m going to try and stop her legally first. But I’ll put an end to her before I let her try to hurt you again.”

 

“But- But the tour is over. What is she gonna do now?” Stiles asked, brow knitting together tightly. “I mean she tried to blow up my bus. Really, what else could she have to throw at me?”

 

“Pens,” Derek said seriously, and Stiles looked concerned through his confusion, but then Derek’s lips lifted slightly and Stiles started to laugh. It was only a month ago that Derek suggested pens as a weapon at the signing, and Stiles clearly remembered the incident.

 

“Pens?!” He nearly reached shouting volume, and the nurse at the desk shot them a warning look, but Stiles wasn’t looking back. “Oh my God, you’re sense of humor makes a comeback. I don’t think I want to ever get used to the shock. That is awesome, dude.”

 

“Well hopefully we both live long enough that you do, in fact, get used to it.” Derek laced his fingers with Stiles’ then and held on tight. Stiles didn’t even hesitate. He held back just as strong.

\-- -- -- --

 

The morning of the second day, Melissa was moved out of the ICU and they were permitted to visit her in groups of two. Scott and Stiles went in first, of course, while the rest of them waited patiently in the lobby. She was alright. The doctor had given them a brief but informative explanation of her condition. None of the burns were severe enough to merit skin grafting, and she was responding well to the medication.

 

Knowing that, the people waiting their turn were able to breathe freely.

 

A few minutes into Scott and Stiles’ visit, Derek’s attention was drawn down the hall to the main desk. A man was talking loudly with the nurse stationed there, and generally Derek wouldn’t care, except he recognized the voice.

 

Leaving his returned sister, Kira, and a handful of crew behind, Derek headed toward the commotion, first calmly and then briskly as he got closer. Wearing an old brown jacket and blue jeans, standing at the counter was none other than John Stilinski himself.

 

“Look, can you please just tell me where to go? Melissa McCall. She was admitted yesterday,” he was saying, his voice stressed.

 

“I’m sorry, sir. I can have a nurse find her son for you, but without his approval, I can’t let anyone through,” the young man behind the desk said in a tone that suggested he’d said this before.

 

“But-,” John tried again.

 

“Sir, this is a sensitive case, and I can’t just tell anyone where she is. Now you can either take a seat while I fetch someone for you, or you can leave, or if you continue to cause a scene, I can call security,” the young man explained with a note of finality.

 

Clearing his throat, Derek stepped up with his one crutch and shook his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “He’s fine. He can come back to see her.”

 

“I’m sorry?” the nurse asked, affronted, clearly doubting Derek’s ability to grant permission.

 

Doing his best to smile and be polite, Derek pulled out his Hale Security badge. “I’m part of Ms. McCall’s security detail. Mr. Stilinski is clear. Her son is currently in with her, but I assure you, he grants his approval.”

 

With a sniff of disapproval at John, the nurse waved him on, and John’s face broke into an expression of extreme relief. He closed the brief distance between him and Derek easily and wrapped him up in a hug. It was unusual for Derek, being hugged by adults outside of his family. Well, technically everyone Derek knew was an adult, but more adult-ier adults. People who could be his parents, adults.

 

Then, with a sudden jolt, Derek realized that John Stilinski was his parent. He was Stiles’ father, and if Derek and Stiles got married – which Derek could definitely see happening – then John would be Derek’s father too. He relaxed into the embrace and managed to pat John around the shoulders once before the hug was completed.

 

“Thank you,” John said and then stood back to let Derek lead him.

 

Casually, Derek walked back to the waiting room where the others were sitting. Casually was difficult though. Despite John’s obvious relief, Derek could feel the man’s eyes staring a hole in his back the entire walk. This was their first meeting since Stiles’ wrist made front page news, and Derek knew for a fact that Stiles and his father had been on the phone for an hour that night.

 

Laura was on her feet as soon as she saw John trailing behind Derek, and she quickly stepped over to greet him.

 

“Mr. Stilinski, what a surprise. I mean, I’m glad you could come. Melissa will be very happy to see you,” she said, and he took her hands in his.

 

“Thank you. And please, call me John. After all, we’re sort of like family at this point, right?” And though he said it smoothly, he sounded nervous, like maybe he’d somehow heard wrong and was lying without meaning to.

 

Laura smiled and laughed softly. “Right,” she said and John’s shoulders relaxed. His lips lifted up, but it wasn’t a full smile. His mind was still on Melissa. “Oh!” Laura exclaimed and motioned in the direction of Melissa’s room. “Melissa is fine, by the way. She’s in her own room now and they’re letting us see her in groups of two. Scott and Stiles are in there right now, and you can go second if you’d like. She has burns over her upper left torso and arm, but the doctor says that if she keeps up with her therapy and covers them from the sun, her scaring will be minimal.”

 

“Good. That’s good,” John murmured, more to fill the silence than to communicate. He ran a hand through his hair and down his neck, and then he met Derek’s eyes. It was as if in those few seconds, he’d forgotten Derek was there, and seeing him again startled something back to life behind his eyes. “Derek, right?”

 

“Right,” Derek said and shifted his weight.

 

John’s eyes flickered down to Derek’s cast and back up, but when he opened his mouth it wasn’t his voice that called out. “Dad?” Stiles exclaimed, reentering the room. There was enough time for the elder Stilinski to look up and then Stiles was barreling into his father’s arms.

 

“Stiles.” And Derek had never heard a name said with such love and relief, not ever. The pair held tight to each other, reveling in their ability to still do so. “God, I was so worried.” John sucked in a deep breath and smiled slightly. “Scott said the two of you are alright, but I mean… Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, of course. A hundred percent,” Stiles assured as he pulled away. “Why?”

 

“Well you didn’t call me. I had to get Scott on the line of all people to get an update,” his father said, a scolding tone laying claim to every word.

 

“Ah. I- I’m sorry, Dad. I was… I guess I got distracted.” Stiles looked down at the tile floor and rubbed his neck, looking very much like his father had moments ago.

 

John looked up from Stiles and over at Derek once more, a vaguely suspicious look on his face. “Uh-huh,” he said and reached gently for his son’s right arm. “You’ve gone through quite a bit in the last week, haven’t you, son?” he asked, rubbing a thumb over Stiles’ wrist.

 

That brought a smile back to Stiles’ face and he nodded, glancing over at Derek. “Yeah. Not all of it’s been completely terrible,” he said and drew a small grin from Derek as well. “Oh, but Dad, you should go see Melissa while she’s awake. We can talk about me later.”

 

“Oh we will,” John warned, but his face was warm. He ruffled Stiles’ hair a bit and nodded at Derek before passing them both. A nurse was waiting at the corner of the room and she greeted John as he approached and then led him from the room.

 

“Oh we will,” Stiles mimicked in a too-deep voice and wiggled his head back and forth. Derek let out a tiny snort and shook his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 15:
> 
> With the crisis seemingly on pause, everyone is faced with the reality that they still have lives to get back to that don’t include hanging around hospital rooms and watching for Kate Argent’s next move. Stiles has to get back to the studio before the record company pops a vein, but that’s okay, because he’s been aching to have Derek hear his new song. Well, aching for that and something a little bit – okay a lot bit- more physical. And Derek’s been aching for that as well.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the crisis seemingly on pause, everyone is faced with the reality that they still have lives to get back to that don’t include hanging around hospital rooms and watching for Kate Argent’s next move. Stiles has to get back to the studio before the record company pops a vein, but that’s okay, because he’s been aching to have Derek hear his new song. Well, aching for that and something a little bit – okay a lot bit- more physical. And Derek’s been aching for that as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last warning - this chapter contains ADULT CONTENT, and by Adult I don't mean the violence of previous chapters. I mean sex. Sex stuff happens. You have been warned. But it's pretty evident when it happens, so if you dislike it, you can skip down to the bottom and hit page up twice (or three times) and you should be past it.

Really the only great thing about being in the hospital for three days watching over Melissa for Derek was that his doctor in L.A. was able to contact the doctor taking care of Melissa, and the hospital set up a time between patients to remove Derek’s cast. Following that, Stiles took him on a walk around the halls so he could get used to putting weight on his foot again, and they talked about pointless things. Well mostly it was Stiles talking about a television show he had fallen behind on due to the tour and ranting about all the character relationships and things and how Derek needed to watch it, but by the end of the day, Derek was pretty sure the show couldn’t add anything to the details Stiles had given him.

 

It was nice to distract themselves with the thought of a TV drama. It made the thought of Melissa less painful. Even only a day after they’d first been able to see her, she looked much better. The care given to her greatly improved the state of the burns, and a physical therapist came in to see her regularly the entire day.

 

“Thank you all for the support,” she said after her second bandage change of the day. Most of the crew had left after seeing her the first time, but a handful still stayed.  “But you should all go back to work. Or go home. Whatever you were meant to be doing after the tour. I’ll be fine, and I’ll meet you all back in L.A. soon.”

 

“She means you, Dad,” Stiles piped up and Scott elbowed him in the side for it, grinning but looking embarrassed on his behalf.

 

It was a good point though. John Stilinski hadn’t left the hospital, barely even the room, since his arrival the day before. The internet was torn up about the news. There had been no official statement from the Stiles Stilinski tour about who exactly was injured in the fire. The police said they didn’t want Kate trying to hurt them at the hospital, and they didn’t want her leaving town either. By keeping her in the dark about who she’d put in critical condition, they hoped she’d stay in the area. So John Stilinski rushing away from his scheduled events to live at the hospital had plenty of people scared.

 

Reporters kept trying to come into the area but as far as anyone in the group could tell, they were now effectively being blocked by three levels of security. They weren’t allowed inside. If they got someone in undercover, there was a guard watching the elevator. If they made it up to the right floor, every nurse was on alert for suspicious activity and cameras and even phones. Only one person had so far even gotten that close.

 

But they couldn’t hide forever, and Melissa was right. Stiles couldn’t technically claim a family emergency since Melissa wasn’t legally his mother and so the record company would want him back in the studio. Right now they were being considerate because everyone knew how close the Stilinskis and the McCalls were, and the police had put in a good word about keeping Stiles there as part of a plan, but eventually he had to leave. Same for his father.

 

Given her new status as Scott’s soul mate, Kira could call out of work if she wanted to. Under Common Law, she and Scott were half married already, even if nothing was on paper. But after Melissa urged them all to go home, she took Scott into the hall and Derek caught bits of their conversation. Kira was planning to return home so she could keep her parents updated and help out in their clinic. They’d already let her go for the entirety of the trip for Stiles’ well being and hey she needed to update them about that too, actually. So within the hour, she’d given Scott a nervous kiss on the cheek and left.

 

Derek had no assignments. His mother was his boss so she wouldn’t be dragging him away anytime soon and didn’t need to be updated on his condition. So he was free to stay as long as he required. Peter had left town as soon as he finished up last minute details with the rest of the tour group. Scott had personally signed the final paperwork, since he was the assistant manager after all. Laura wanted to stay, but Peter and Talia were both sending her frequent texts, so an hour after Kira’s departure, she had to excuse herself to call home. And from there, she was ordered back to the company base.

 

“I don’t want to leave you on your own though,” Laura said after telling Derek the news.

 

“I’m a big boy, Laura. I can handle myself,” Derek assured and motioned down to his leg. “See? I’m not even handicapped now.”

 

“Shut up, Derek. I’m serious. What if Kate comes back? I could help,”

 

“I’m serious too. The cops are on site. Stiles was in danger, but he’s also probably the safest person to be around right now. If Kate’s goal was to get revenge on us, Hale Securities is going to be in danger, not the hospital. And if she’s determined to finish what she started with Stiles, then I’m going to stay and be part of his protection detail.” He put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Trust me, Laura. I’ll be alright.”

 

“Besides,” Stiles said, walking up next to the siblings, “Derek’s leaving too.”

 

“What?” both Hales asked simultaneously and with matching raised eyebrows of disbelief.

 

With a shrug, Stiles said, “Melissa’s kicking me out. I have studio time to fill, and I’m taking Derek with me. It’s just gonna be the two of us and- well unless that Parrish guy is still here. Then he’ll come to. I mean he’s like Derek’s shadow. Sometimes I don’t even notice him until he talks. It’s weird. Awesome, but weird. Anyway, unless Derek brings him along, it’s just gonna be me and Derek, in a car not associated with the company, so really the only way Kate would even know where to find me would be if she’s staking out the parking garage here, which is crawling with security right now, or the studio, and no one knows I’m even coming in yet so she has no reason to be doing that.”

 

“See?” Derek said, turning back to his sister. “Safe.”

 

Laura didn’t look impressed with her brother, but the sigh she let out told Derek he’d won this round.

\-- -- -- --

 

Getting out the hospital was the easy part. The drive to the recording studio was the killer. Traffic was all around awful, proving that they probably should have left an hour earlier. Stiles’ scheduled studio time wasn’t for two hours, so they had time, but it didn’t make the drive any less tense.

 

At first, Stiles tried to fill the silence with chatter. Today’s topic was about his father, and how the man should really just propose to Melissa already because damn he’d been tip toeing around her for almost a decade. The McCalls and the Stilinskis were already like family anyway – proven by how the hospital didn’t kick any of them out over night and by how John had been able to leave his work so suddenly to see her. Seriously.

 

“You think your dad is worried about replacing your mom?” Derek asked.

 

“I guess so. They really loved each other, you know? And she was the best, too. She was so supportive and always smiling. She wasn’t a musician but she loved the art form, and she was an editor – like for books, you know? – so she could do all of her work long distance. She travelled for dad’s shows a lot. I think he really loved her even more because of that. She never held it against him. In fact she told me all the time that she loved traveling with the band,” Stiles said, tapping on the window and staring out at the busy road.

 

“I can see how that’d be hard to replace. And he met Melissa… five years before your mother passed, correct? So he had half a decade of keeping his distance from her, and she had the same amount of time getting to know and like your mother. It’s a hard barrier to cross,” Derek said.

 

“But he really likes her,” Stiles whined. “He loves Melissa.”

 

“How did you feel when I was dating Jennifer? Besides the jealousy.” Derek glanced over at Stiles. “You kissed me, yeah, but after that you didn’t try to get me away from her. You didn’t try to invade that boundary. It’s respect. You respected the feelings we both thought I had for her.”

 

Stiles snorted. “I think you highly overestimate the respect I had.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Derek asked with a smile.

 

“Oh yeah. You ended that kiss pretty fiercely, but let me tell ya. It did not end the sexual frustration.” Stiles stretched his arms up above his head as best he could and moaned when his back popped.

 

“Sexual frustration?” Derek’s tone was calm and conversational but his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel at the moan.

 

“Dude. So much. I couldn’t be around you for more than like… an hour without wanting to grab you and press my body as close as possible to yours,” Stiles said. He spoke like the topic was easy and weightless, but Derek’s body grew warmer with each word. The thought of pulling Stiles so close that their bodies were flush against each other and kissing him with the same fevered, jealous passion as their first kiss-

 

He needed to get out of this car.

 

Eyes glancing over Derek, Stiles smirked like he knew a secret joke and then set his gaze back out on the cars. Without looking, his hand drifted over the center console and onto Derek’s upper thigh. Derek hoped it stayed there and didn’t try anything funny because he was driving, and while traffic was bad, he didn’t want to add an accident to the mix.

 

“Do you ever think about the next step in our relationship?” Stiles asked, as though his hand wasn’t dangerously dipping into Derek’s inner thigh.

 

“Quite often, actually,” Derek admitted and reached down to grab Stiles’ wrist. He shifted Stiles’ hand back to the top of his leg and held it there, their fingers intertwining.

 

“And?” Stiles prompted, turning to stare intently at Derek, his eyes full of curiosity and a need to know.

 

“And based on where your hand was trying to go, I think my worries were unfounded.”

 

Stiles laughed loudly in the small car and tightened his grip on Derek’s hand. “Well based on that response,” he said, mimicking Derek’s wording, “I guess mine were too.”

 

They held hands for the rest of the drive, and Stiles stopped trying to charge the air between them. In fact he sort of tried to ease the tension, changing the topic back to his father, but it didn’t really help. Both of their minds were there now. Derek’s could hear it under Stiles’ words, could feel it in his own chest and gut and groin.

 

When they finally parked at the studio, they jumped out of the car so fast that someone outside of it might think it was on fire. Derek let Stiles get ten steps ahead before he followed, and Stiles didn’t look back to ensure he was following. The knowledge that they both wanted to further the relationship was heavy under their skin, but Stiles had to work.

 

They were greeted in the lobby by a professional but cheerful woman named Heather who undressed Stiles with her eyes only. Stiles didn’t seem to notice, but Derek did and when the woman’s eyes landed on him she laughed softly and immediately stopped. In fact she barely looked at Stiles directly at all after that.

 

“Ah, Mr. Stilinski. Cutting it close as always,” the studio director greeted in a lazy drawl. “Do try to remember that not everyone’s schedule revolves around yours. You’re not that famous.”

 

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Harris,” Stiles greeted back with saccharine in his voice.

 

“I’m sure,” Harris replied and motioned for Stiles and Derek to follow him into a control room. “Keep in mind that if your shadow breaks anything, I will be holding your record company accountable.”

 

“Don’t worry. He’s my guard dog. He only attacks when he senses threats,” Stiles said, patting Derek on the chest before pulling his hand back and rubbing it on his own arm. To Harris is probably looked like Stiles disliked touching Derek. To Derek it was the same reason he rubbed his chest then, to remove the tingle that the contact had caused.

 

Their hormones may be back to normal now that their numbers were gone, but that soul bond wasn’t letting up in this case.

 

“Right.” Harris frowned and kept a wary eye on Derek as he motioned for Stiles to go into the booth.

 

The control room was tense to begin with but it only got worse once Stiles left. Harris was snippy with Stiles, but with Derek he was just nerves, like he worried Derek might actually attack him. Stiles was visible through the glass on the other side of the control board and as soon as his headset was on, Harris hit the mic button.

 

“Alright, Mr. Stilinski. This is your studio time. Which of your alternative teen bop wonders will we be focusing on today?” he asked.

 

“Lonely No More. Second chorus,” Stiles said, hand rising up to hold his headset.

 

“As you command.” Did Harris even have a tone beyond exasperated?

 

Buttons were pressed. A computer was consulted. Then the drum beat started. Upbeat, almost like a samba. Stiles bobbed his head and stared ahead at his microphone intently, listening for the timing. There was a quiet set of backup singers, turned down so they were place markers more than music, and then a heavy drum beat and Stiles took a deep breath.

 

“I don’t wanna be lonely no more! I don’t wanna have to pay for this! I don’t want to know the lover at my door is just another heartache on my list. I don’t wanna be angry no more! You know I could never stand for this. So when you tell me that you love me, know for sure. I don’t wanna be lonely anymore.”

 

Derek remembered the morning before the concert, when Stiles said he wanted Derek to hear the song he was working on. As Stiles swayed slightly and listened to the earlier recorded tune of backup singers, Derek thought on the words and wondered when Stiles had written them. Boyd and Stiles had been working on something since before Derek broke up with Jennifer. Could this be from way back then, when Stiles claimed he was struggling with his emotional and sexual tension over Derek?

 

Stiles glanced over at Derek through the glass. “What if I was good to you? What if you were good to me?” He closed his eyes and looked serene. “What if I could hold you till I feel you move inside of me?” Derek’s chest pounded heavily and his crotch felt that line more than anything. “What if it was paradise? What if we were symphonies?” The deep rumble of an orchestra came with that line and reminded Derek to school his features while he watched Stiles be moved by his own music. “What if I gave all my life to find some way to stand beside you?”

 

Stiles’ eyes opened once more as he easily transitioned back into another chorus, and he seemed unaffected by the words and the rhythm and the insinuation it all left in Derek’s mind. “I want you to hear it.” That’s what Stiles had said. And he’d chosen this part of the song to work on first. He’d chosen the bridge and chorus on purpose.

 

When Harris paused the music, Stiles and Derek locked eyes. Harris was speaking, and Stiles was answering him, but Derek couldn’t move past the smug look in Stiles’ eyes. The car ride and now this – Stiles was way past making suggestions. He was screaming his intentions.

 

Harris had Stiles redo parts of the song, including three different octaves of the same line that they would later layer to play at the same time, for just shy of an hour, then he called for a break so Stiles could rest his throat.

 

“I’ll be stepping out to grab fake Mexican food. I’d offer to grab something for you as well, but, well, you have a dog for that, don’t you?” Harris said when Stiles met them in the hallway.

 

He was trying to act cool about it, but he still leaned away from Derek in order to pass him, and he kept a wary eye on Derek as long as he could. It was amusing and, as far as Derek could tell, he deserved to feel a little spooked.

 

As soon as Harris disappeared around the corner of the hall, Derek said, “He’s kind of a dick.”

 

Then Stiles was on him, pressing a kiss to his lips and standing very, very close. “Oh my God, if we’re going to talk about dicks, let’s not talk about Harris’s,” he said when he pulled his lips away. He pressed close to Derek and slid one hand down Derek’s back. “Look, we’ve got half an hour before he comes back to find me again. I say we commandeer a practice room or a bathroom or, hell, you rental car. What do you say?”

 

Derek didn’t say anything. He kissed Stiles roughly and then pushed him back, taking his hand in his. Usually he would think this was a terrible idea, but after listening to the song fifteen times, he was about ready to come apart. They found a small lounge with no windows anywhere, and Stiles locked the door behind them and then put a chair under the handle just to be sure.

 

When he turned around, Derek was there, cupping his face and kissing him. The lounge had a loveseat and a recliner, but no full couch. Stiles pushed Derek down onto the recliner and straddled him, lips barely landing on Derek’s before moving to kiss down to Derek’s neck. Derek’s hands didn’t know where to go but one ended up gripping Stiles’ hip a little too hard and the other slid up the back of Stiles’ neck and into the singer’s hair as Derek moaned softly.

 

Stiles wasted no time in taking control. His mouth was working a hickie into Derek’s collarbone as his fingers undid the buttons on Derek’s shirt, and really Derek had always fantasized that he’d be in charge of this situation, but reality had other plans and they were, perhaps, even hotter than anything Derek had imagined.

 

“Stiles,” he moaned out when the sensation on his neck sent a burst of pleasurable shivers through his body.

 

Stiles snapped back, hands stilling just as they finished the last button. He held Derek’s shirt loosely in his fingers and looked uneasily down at the older man, and really, why did he look uneasy? There was no way he couldn’t feel Derek’s penis trying to poke through his jeans , because he was sitting almost directly on it.

 

“This-,” Stiles began and then hesitated, his fingers worrying the fabric of Derek’s shirt. “I mean, I want this. I really, really want this, but just- I know you’re like turned on right now and you’re probably wishing I would just shut up and continue, but before I do I gotta know. You want this, right? Our hormones are all messed up and this isn’t just the aurasphere making you want this, right? Cause I can wait. Really, I can wait.”

 

“Stiles.” Derek grunted and sat up. He wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist and pulled their bodies securely together, and with his other hand he guided Stiles in for a kiss. “Stop thinking.” He kissed Stiles’ jaw and down his neck. “I want this.” And he tugged on the collar of Stiles’ shirt to suck on the skin where neck met shoulder.

 

“Oh my God.” Stiles’s hands gripped Derek’s shoulders and he pulled on them as though Derek could get any closer. Derek only released Stiles’ neck when he knew a good hickie would be there and was proud when he saw the dark mark discoloring the otherwise pale skin. Suddenly his skin tingled all over when he realized they’d both have the marks on their necks next time they saw Harris, or anyone for that matter. The tingling was hot and pleasurable.

 

Then Stiles’ hands were on his exposed chest, putting just enough distance between their bodies to do so, and he made a noise of approval, coaxing a laugh from Derek. After all their time together, it was almost like Stiles doubted what he’d find under Derek’s clothes. It was impossible not to know what Stiles was hiding. There were plenty of photos floating around of him shirtless at beaches, and Derek had watched him peel sweaty, tight shirts off during concerts.

 

“Damn. You’re almost too hot to be real,” Stiles said, voice almost a whine. “It’s just not fair.”

 

“Says the guy on People Magazine’s Hot 100 list,” Derek retorted and slid his hands down Stiles’ back and came to rest on the other’s ass. “Twenty five minutes.”

 

“Shit.” Stiles dropped his hand down so fast to Derek’s crotch that the moan he let out was almost more surprised than pleased. The angle was awkward and his jeans were in the way, but Stiles didn’t seem to care. He made a loose fist and rolled his hips, successfully grinding both their crotches against his hand.

 

A sharp intake of air came out instead of a moan, but on the next roll, Derek couldn’t help but let out a deep sound of need. He rolled his hips up as Stiles rolled down, and the sound he got from Stiles’ throat was almost as good as the feeling he got from Stiles’ hand.

 

“Shit,” Stiles said again as Derek continued to match him. “Shit, I don’t have a change of – uhn – of boxers.”

 

“Not the time,” Derek growled and kissed him hard.

 

He reached down and moved Stiles’ hand, but they both continue to grind without the added friction. Then Derek undid his own pants and Stiles’ flailing fingers managed to undo his jeans a short time later. While Stiles paused to shift his body and work his jeans down his hips, Derek tugged the singer’s shirt up. They got caught up when the shirt couldn’t go any further while Stiles was still working on the pants and then Stiles’ arms could figure out if they were going up or down and really it shouldn’t be that hard to take clothes off, but they managed it.

 

Eventually, they got Stiles shirtless and both of their pants pulled open and hanging off their hips, and then both their underwear out of the way, and Derek was just wrapping a hand around Stiles when his phone started ringing in his pocket.

 

“Damn it,” he growled and carefully removed the device. He didn’t even look at who was trying to get in contact with him, just set it on the floor carefully so he wouldn’t accidentally hit the call button.

 

Stiles was thrusting against his hand before Derek had fully sat up, but once he was upright, they were kissing again. Stiles’ hand was around him and stroking him, tight and fast, and they both panted heavily around the kisses until there was more panting than kissing going on.

 

“Oh God,” Stiles moaned, eyes tightly shut. “Oh yeah.”

 

And then Derek’s eyes were closed too, because they were doing a weird mix of humping and hand jobs and it was hot and so, so damn good. The pleasure pounded through his bloodstream, making his toes curl in his shoes and his free hand grab desperately to any part of Stiles it could find.

 

“Open,” Stiles panted. “Open your eyes.”

 

Stiles’ gorgeous golden brown eyes were locked on his, his pupils wide with pleasure, and then Derek was cumming. Stiles covered his mouth as it opened to let out a loud moan and leaned their foreheads together as he continued to rut into Derek’s hand, and then Derek had to cover Stiles’ mouth, both because Stiles was loud and because he was cursing.

 

As the last of their climaxes died away, they held a staring contest, both their mouths still covered, and they breathed heavily through their noses.

 

Derek’s phone went off again and they groaned simultaneously, their hands dropping.

 

“No. Hell no,” Stiles said, breathless. “Whoever it is can shove it. We’re busy with afterglow.”

 

Chuckling, Derek shook his head. “It’s not a call,” he said. “It’s a text.” He leaned over the arm of the chair and retrieved his phone while Stiles complained but pulled himself up and out of the chair. The singer vanished into a tiny bathroom in the corner while Derek read the multiple messages he’d ignored.

 

When Stiles reappeared with some damp paper towels and some dry ones to help clean them up, Derek’s face was serious. “What’s up?” Stiles asked, settling back in across Derek’s lap and wiping at the other’s stomach.

 

“It’s my mother. She set up a couple alerts when she got home, like Google alert but for more than just Google,” Derek explained. “It was to monitor any mention of Kate on social network and news. Apparently some of your fans are playing detective. Someone just tweeted a picture of her car.”

 

“You mean the vehicle she used to get away from the scene of the arson,” Stiles corrected.

 

“You don’t think she’d use her own car?”

 

“You do?” Stiles asked as he switched to wiping himself clean.

 

Derek moved to take over, and smiled at the way Stiles’ stomach twitched under the attention. “Yes. Because she’s cocky. She thinks she’s too good to be caught. And so far she’s been right. But now we have a new weapon.”

 

“What’s that?” Stiles asked, and his voice was a bit quieter than before. When Derek looked up at him, he saw the stirrings of lust re-clouding Stiles’ eyes. He pulled his hand away from his boyfriend’s pelvis – mmm the word sounded nice in his thoughts. Boyfriend. – and gave a teasingly disapproving look. Stiles did not look ashamed.

 

“Your fans are on her case now,” Derek said. His phone went off again and he scanned the message. “More than just her car. Now there’s a photo of her. She can’t hide anymore.”

 

“Our spies are efficient,” Stiles remarked with awe. “I’m so proud.”

 

With a chuckle and one last wipe of a dry towel, Derek motioned for Stiles to get up, and then they both started to become presentable. Part of Derek was still surprised at what they’d done, but the thrill of it hummed in his veins and kept him from feeling embarrassed about it.

 

“What now?” Stiles asked as Derek tossed him his shirt.

 

“Now we finish your session. Then we take on Kate. It’s her turn to be surprised.” He smirked and the responding devilish glint in Stiles’ eye made him worry at the same time that it made him feel strangely lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To take down Kate, it’s going to take more than just Derek, more than just the police. To draw her into a trap, they’re going to need someone she trusts, but also someone who is on their side. But even with the extra family help, does Kate still have the upper hand? And away from the conflict, Stilinski Sr. has something serious he needs to discuss with his son.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To take down Kate, it’s going to take more than just Derek, more than just the police. To draw her into a trap, they’re going to need someone she trusts, but also someone who is on their side. But even with the extra family help, does Kate still have the upper hand? And away from the conflict, Stilinski Sr. has something serious he needs to discuss with his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the story is finished now. Finished writing it all at 3 a.m. last night. Chapter 17 is the end. I'll post it in a week. Thanks for everything, everyone.

Chapter 16

 

Derek monitored twitter throughout the rest of Stiles’ session, and while the music sounded good, his focus couldn’t be fully earned. There was a moment when Stiles and Harris started to get a little tense, but when Derek took a step forward they both made noticeable attempts to calm down. Once things were running smoothly again, Derek stepped into the hallway to make a call.

 

He’d never had to dial this number before, but his mother had made sure he had it long before the Stiles job. It happened that Hale Securities liked to know the personal contact numbers of their biggest rivals, that’s all.

 

“Argent speaking. Who’s this?” a gruff voice asked, suspicion lacing the edges.

 

“Chris. It’s Derek Hale.” He paused to let that sink in. “We need to talk.”

 

“Argent Inc. has already given a public statement about your incident, Mr. Hale. We are not assisting Kate in any manner, nor do we condone her actions,” Chris responded monotonously.

 

“I am aware of your public stance. I called because I’d like your help,” Derek explained, but it felt like he was speaking to a recording with how much the other man took notice of the words.

 

“We have already made attempts to contact her and call her off, but we have been unsuccessful. Our condolences go out to all injured parties and-“

 

“Argent, stop,” Derek snapped and was relieved to be met with silence. “This isn’t about your company’s involvement or lack thereof. I said I need your help.”

 

More silence followed, and for a moment Derek wondered if the Argent C.E.O. had hung up on him. A quick check of his phone proved the call was still connected, but it took another moment for Chris to finally speak and prove it.

 

When he started again, his words were tired, almost resigned. “What kind of help were you looking for, exactly?”

 

Perfect.

 

\-- -- -- --

 

Thanks to the fans on Twitter, Derek knew where Kate was down to the exact hotel. Assuming she hadn’t ducked out a window and taken off across rooftops, she was still there. If she’d left, someone would have tweeted about it. It seemed as if a whole crew of fans turned spies were watching the entrance from different angles, and mostly Derek hoped they were being discreet. If Kate caught wind of them, not only would she bail but Derek didn’t want to think of what she’d do to the fans.

 

They paused by the car to make separate phone calls away from the heavy atmosphere of the studio lobby.

 

As Stiles called his dad to let him know how the session went and to assure him that nothing bad had happened, Derek called the police. They tried to tell Derek to stay away, that it would be safer if he was nowhere near the arrest, but Derek could be pretty convincing… and that was convincing by way of threats, really. Mostly he just threatened to show up and ruin everything by trying to go in solo and either spooking her or getting himself shot or something.

 

After such a humble and innocent request from Derek, the police chief graciously offered to let Derek be part of the raid. Life was grand when things went smoothly.

 

Derek hung up his call just in time to hear the end of Stiles’, and he kind of wished he hadn’t.

 

“No, Dad, I’m serious. I’m totally fine. In fact I’m better than fine. Things went so well at the studio you could say it was… orgasmic. … What? What?! No! No way. Not at all what I meant, Dad. Ew. Gutter. Oh my God, I can’t even believe you right now. … Oh. Oh hang on, Derek is waving me over to the car. Gotta go, Daddio. Talk to you later. Bye!” Stiles ended the call and looked up at Derek, who was most certainly not calling Stiles over to the car.

 

They exchanged a charged look – Derek’s hard and disapproving, Stiles’ apologetic but trying for innocent.

 

“Did you just tell your father we had sex at the studio?” Derek asked.

 

“No.” Stiles wrinkled his nose and looked affronted, but dropped it moments later under Derek’s stare. “What? I really didn’t. Just cause he now thinks that we did-”

 

“Thinks? He knows, Stiles.”

 

“Yeah but he doesn’t know that,” Stiles said as they officially got in the car.

 

Derek had only known about his soul mate connection with Stiles for a few days, but already he was having moments of wonder that the universe would pair him with someone like this spastic idiot. He loved that Stiles was clever and sassy and all that, but he was a terrible liar, really.  John Stilinski was going to give him disapproving looks until the day he died at this rate. Derek could already hear the lectures on public indecency and putting his son’s public image at risk and other long, embarrassing, detailed scoldings to come.

 

Hang on. Back up three sentences. Did he just think what he thought he did? That reminded him. He’d left a voicemail on Stiles’ phone the day of the fire, and Stiles had never brought it up. But Derek still wanted to talk to Stiles about something important. Now would be a bad time to bring it up though. They could talk after they took down Kate Argent.

 

Derek glanced over at his soul mate and found the singer messing with the air vents until one of them got stuck, and then he was frantically trying to fix it, and Derek wanted to be annoyed but mostly he found it endearing.

\-- -- -- --

 

Chris Argent was that rugged sort of handsome a lot of men failed to achieve at his age. A father and involved with a severely stressful job and even more stressful family, it continued to shock Derek just how good looking the man was. Another man would be too wrinkled, too gray, too tired to look as good as Chris Argent, but as in everything he did, Chris was an overachiever, and he had to be handsome as well as damn good at his job. Even now, as he stood in front of the bland green door of the motel room, glaring slightly at Derek, Derek had the unintentional urge to take a photo of him and get it framed.

 

Dear god, Stiles was rubbing off on his brain.

 

Knocking on the door was the simplest way to get someone to come open it, but Chris had already done that and Kate had yet to appear. With a shallow breath, Chris focused on the door and then on the handle. Calmly, as though it was entirely normal to do so, he tapped the nose of his gun to the metal. A spark of electricity connected the metal to metal and then disappeared, and Derek was sure only Chris’ leather gloves had kept him safe.

 

“Kate,” Chris called calmly, but with that hint of annoyance only an older brother could accomplish. “Open the door, Kate. I know you’re in there. I just want to talk.”

 

Derek was pressed close to the wall, about ten feet away from the door. There was no window here, and even if there was, it would be into the room next to Kate’s.  Glancing back at the officer behind him, Derek caught sight of Stiles in the distance. He was thirty feet further down the hall, barely out of the staircase and surrounded by police. Derek had tried to keep him in the car, but he’d known it was a lost cause before he’d even opened his mouth to suggest it.

 

The younger man nodded, his expression serious, but he looked a little ridiculous with the wooden bat he’d brought along, especially when surrounded by uniformed men with guns. The sun, which blanketed the outdoor hallway, barely reached the stairwell and made the officers and Stiles within the shadow look like they weren’t even on the scene at all. In a way that view kept Derek calmer.

 

Something clicked behind the door and drew Derek’s attention back, and then a second click released the door lock. Whatever had electrified the handle must have been the first noise as she turned it off, because the handle was turning now.

 

There was just a two inch crack, not enough for Derek to see her, but also not enough for her to see the other men in the hall either. The angle was wrong.

 

“Talk, Chris? Really? You bring guns to all your meetings?” Kate’s voice was aloof, calm.

 

“Ones with killers, yeah, pretty much,” Chris answered back in the same strange tone. It was like they’d had conversations like this before, like Kate had misbehaved at school and Chris was just here to give her a lecture she’d already heard. “You gonna open the door? Or are we talking through the peeling paint?”

 

“Don’t take it personally if I admit I don’t trust anyone right now – not even you, big bro,” Kate said, and Derek could just imagine the way she’d purse her lips and bat her eyes, innocent and coy.

 

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Chris slipped his hands into his pocket, his gun blatantly visible in its holster on his side. With a sigh, he said, “Why’d you do it, Kate? He’s just a stupid kid.”

 

“It had nothing to do with Stiles,” Kate snapped back. “You think I’m some simple psychotic? I picked a random person to go after?”

 

“I honestly don’t know what to think, Kate. You dropped off comms and disappeared out of nowhere. No warning, no explanation. And the next time I see you, you’re wanted for attempted murder and arson.” His voice was hard now, no more of the playful sibling showing through, and even Derek got nervous.

 

The plan was to use Chris to get Kate to confess candidly. He knew her. He knew how to push her buttons. Chris was usually so calm. The planned seemed perfect. But Chris seemed to be the one getting riled. Derek tensed where he stood but didn’t dare try to get Chris’ attention. He had to trust that Chris knew what he was doing.

 

“You know what they did to me,” Kate snapped back and the door opened another inch. Kate’s fingers came into Derek’s view as she gripped the door with one hand. “Peter Hale slandered me! He ruined my whole career, my life!”

 

“And yet the only time you didn’t do anything to Stiles was when Peter was in charge,” Chris argued back. Damn it. No. Kate had to be the one to say she’d done something, not Chris.

 

For a tense second, Kate didn’t respond. Then the door opened half way and Derek started to see her hair. His heart raced. If she caught sight of them, it was over. But then she shifted her weight and he could see only her hand on the door again.

 

“I don’t expect you to understand me or what I went through because of that family. Everything I’ve done has had a purpose, and all of it has worked,” Kate said, a sneer in her voice that reminded Derek of his uncle. Chris started to speak, but Kate held her hand up to silence him. “Save it, bro. We have nothing to talk about. You can’t stop what’s about to happen. Not you, and not your buddies hiding down the hall. So just leave, and come back when you have a better lie about giving a shit.”

 

“Kate,” Chris tried, but she shook her head and stepped up to the threshold, giving Derek a clear view of her.

 

With a small tilt of her head, she locked eyes with Derek and a smirk pulled up on her lips. She’d known the whole time that it was trap. Somehow she’d known. But if she’d known they had a trap, then that meant…

 

“It’s her trap,” he said in a breath. Her smirk got worse, and Derek flipped to look at Stiles in the stairwell. His chest felt tight, and Stiles was just standing there, unaware of the danger and trying to understand the fear on Derek’s face. “Stiles-”

 

A lot happened then. Kate ran at her brother, shoving them both down the hall and away from the cops. Chris drew his gun and tried to aim it, but Kate shoved his hands away and the bullet hit the overhead light instead, shattering it. Derek ducked in reflex and the cop beside him spun to the door of the room next to Kate’s.

 

“Something’s-,” he said just as something loud started going off in the room, and Derek didn’t have time to get up off the floor before the explosion hit.

 

He hit the railing first. Then the officer smacked into it and was sent flying over and down two floors to the ground. Groaning, Derek tried to hide his face from the flames now taking over the interior of the other motel room. His arm ached but he was pretty sure it wasn’t broken.

 

“Derek!” Stiles’ voice carried over.

 

All of her plans had worked, she’d said, but the bomb had been disabled. Not this one. This one went off without a hitch. But her first bomb had been under the stage, not beside it.

 

“Stay back!” Derek shouted back and looked to make sure Stiles didn’t come closer. Two officers were holding him in the stairwell. Thank goodness.

 

Kate’s laugh caught his attention then and all eyes went to where she was, half pinned to the wall by her brother. “Someone do me a favor,” she said. “Make sure Peter knows it’s all his fault.”

 

A second, small explosion rocked the ground from the hall below, and Derek related it to a roller coaster because he lost his stomach on the third floor and started to fall. He could imagine it all – the crash into the second floor, then the next floor would give way and go to the ground too, but Derek would be thrown out into the parking lot, his head cracking on the ground and his body dragging across the harsh asphalt. He’d be lucky to survive at all, and if he did he’d be scarred for life, possibly worse than Melissa. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

 

The ground fell away from his feet and his body started to follow it, and he couldn’t even shout in his shock. Then something warm snapped around either side of his forearm, holding on tight. He slid another inch through the grip, but the hands on him held firm and stopped his descent while the floor crashed down and down and thundered to the bottom level of the building, concrete dust billowing up.

 

With a gasp, Derek looked up to the third level, which was now a foot above his eye level. Stiles’ face was screwed up with strain. He was pulled so heavily onto the remaining floor of the third level that he’d had the air knocked out of him, and his exposed arms were scraped up from elbow to armpit after being dragged down by Derek’s body, but his grip didn’t falter as he squeezed painfully tight around Derek’s forearm.

 

“Stiles,” Derek said, voice breathy as he recovered from the near drop to his death. He tried to raise his arm to grab the floor and pull himself up, to get the weight off Stiles, but the bruising from hitting the railing complained and he couldn’t get a grip.

 

The scrapes on Stiles’ arms started to bleed around the rubble that had been dragged into them and the singer hissed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop- Stop, Derek. Stop moving. I’m gonna drop you.”

 

An officer dropped down by Stiles and reached around his torn up arm to grab onto Derek’s other arm. “On three, Mr. Stilinski,” she said. “One. Two.” They both pulled up but Stiles’ position didn’t help the movement and a third officer came in to help Derek the rest of the way up.

 

“Kate!” Chris shouted just as Derek got a knee up on the unbroken floor.  Derek turned and saw Kate pull a gun, and a shot went off. Her gun started shaking and then she dropped it. It hit the ground and fell into the newly furnished hole just before Kate’s knees hit the concrete and she dropped to her side.

 

Falling clumsily onto his butt, Derek’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. Chris was standing behind where Kate had been, his gun still aiming at his sister, his face a mixture of determination and regret. He took a heaving breath and holstered his gun as officers rushed over to slap handcuffs on Kate.

 

The woman who had helped Stiles lift Derek was on her radio, and soon paramedics would be on site to help Derek and Stiles and anyone else hurt. Someone was rushing down the stairs to check on the officer that had gone over the rails. Others were going to check the rubble for other victims. It all happened so quickly, so efficiently, and Derek’s brain was moving a little too slowly to keep up.

 

Someone was panting beside him, and when he managed to look away from Kate’s groaning form on the other side of the rubble, he found Stiles hunched over, his arms trying to cradle each other. His eyes were closed once more and he wheezed every few breaths, and Derek couldn’t tell if the shaking was from pain or the panic glaring blatantly from Stiles’ face.

 

“Stiles,” he said and shifted to scoot closer. Stiles made no sign that he’d heard, and Derek reached out with his good arm to touch Stiles’ cheek. The singer flinched back, but his eyes opened and he looked up at Derek with a fear Derek had never seen on anyone before.

 

Stiles’ eyes flickered over Kate, who was being slowly lifted and moved to the stairs. The gunshot had caught her side, but she would survive. As she was shuffled passed them, Stiles flinched again and his breathing got worse, and Derek didn’t know how to stop the panic.

 

He watched Stiles’ arms shake and bleed and he glared at the pieces of cement stuck in the wounds. Slowly he reached his right arm out for Stiles’ right arm and set their wrist together. Nothing lit up, nothing sparked, but it sent a jolt through Stiles that caught his attention again.

 

“It’s okay,” Derek said. “We’re okay. We got her. It’s over.” Stiles’ whole body was still shaking as Derek leaned in and leaned their foreheads together. “Focus on me, Stiles. Breathe. It’s over.”

 

Three deep breaths later, Stiles’ shivers started to slow and he tilted his head up to put their lips almost close enough to kiss. He took shaking air into his lungs and let it back out slowly. Then he pressed his lips to Derek’s in a quick kiss before dropping his head to his boyfriend’s shoulder.

 

“It’s over,” he murmured and huffed out a laugh. “God, our relationship is going to be so boring after this. You- You almost died.”

 

Derek brought his right arm up to wrap around Stiles’ shoulders and smiled into the younger man’s hair. “Stiles, I don’t think our relationship is ever going to be boring.”

 

The sounds that came from Stiles’ chest were part hysterical laughter and part relief. He continued to breathe heavily and laugh into Derek’s shoulder until the paramedics arrived to clean and wrap his arms. Kate was long gone by then, and despite the pile of concrete spilling into the parking lot, everything seemed surprisingly calm.

\-- -- -- -- --

 

A week later, the internet was still buzzing with the news and updates. Stiles and Derek were both wrapped up for injuries sustained that day, and a bunch of fans had sent get well soon gifts to the hospital and the studio. Despite not really knowing who Derek was, some fans sent him flowers and cards too. Melissa was out of the hospital, but now everyone knew it was her who had been injured, and many gifts at the studio were for her as well.

 

Kate’s lawyer had known not to go to court, and she’d been privately charged.  Six counts of attempted first degree murder topped the list that included counts of vandalism, reckless endangerment, arson, and trespassing, amongst other things.  Her arrest made every major paper and got people discussing the Argent family at length.

 

Chris Argent’s notable role in stopping her was a highlight for the company, and many news discussions ended up discussing his courage and sacrifice over Kate’s transgressions. They also always managed to pull Allison into the talk somehow, mostly how you’d never expect someone like Kate to be related to someone as positive and sweet as the MTV Music Award winning artist Allison Argent. A few remembered to acknowledge her part in identifying Kate as the suspect and how her testimony helped put Kate away, but most news stations focused on her fame and personality.

 

The Argent reputation was still full of holes now, but popular media didn’t take much notice. Derek made a personal call to the Argent company, and when Chris answered Derek found out the head of the Argent company had already received calls from two other Hale Securities representatives. Talia Hale had thanked him and promised to recommend him to any clients that they were too busy to help. This was infinitely more pleasant than the call from Peter Hale, who gave a sassy suspicious apology that sounded more like he was teasing Chris for having a psychopath in his family than that he was actually sorry for anything.

 

The call ended on a pleasant note, but Chris requested they try to keep their future relationship professional. No more personal issues, if at all possible.

 

Stiles didn’t need his arms to record music, so he was back in the studio, and his fans flooded twitter with praises on him for working while injured. Derek’s involvement with Stiles outside of a work relationship was speculation by the best of fans and dismissed by the least observant. They had yet to be seen together outside of work relations, and none of the cops around after the bombs were telling any reporters what they knew.

 

At the end of two weeks, Derek found himself sitting in the back of the recording studio’s control room and watching Stiles record a new song that didn’t make Derek want to jump him in the next available lounge. It was a relaxing afternoon, actually. Derek wasn’t allowed to work yet since half his body was badly bruised, but that didn’t stop him from hanging out with Stiles.

 

“I never get tired of hearing him,” a calm, older voice said with reverence. Looking up from the book he had open in his lap, Derek found John Stilinski standing just inside the door. “He’s something else.”

 

“Yes,” Derek answered dumbly, unaware of what else the man could be fishing for.

 

“I won’t ask you to get up, considering the bruising, but I wanted to talk.” He waved through the glass at his son, who grinned and waved back. John paused his talk as he took a seat and the producer and Stiles discussed what section to redo.

 

When Stiles was singing again, Derek spoke quietly. “Is everything alright, sir?”

 

John waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah. Yeah. No, everything’s fine,” he said, his voice equally quiet. “I just need to talk to Stiles when he’s done. I guess it is kind of important, and I’m worried he might be upset with me, but… well that’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

 

“Sir?” Derek closed his book and set it to the side. Was this the talk where Mr. Stilinski told Derek that he didn’t approve of Derek and Stiles having sex in public buildings and maybe they should take a break from seeing each other, or at least slow down their relationship to supervised visits and making sure Stiles was home by ten and they couldn’t do anything even slightly dangerous?

 

“Gosh, please stop calling me Sir. John is fine,” John said with a quiet sigh.

 

“John,” Derek amended. Being on first name basis could be a good sign. “What’s wrong?”

 

For a moment, John just watched Stiles sing, passionate and intense, and then he sighed again and rubbed a hand down over his face. “Our family is changing,” he said. “Stiles has his soul mate. I mean-” He laughed, but it was tinted with uncertainty. “I mean until a few weeks ago, none of us thought it was possible. I’m so unbelievably happy for him. Any father would be. But…”

 

The drop in conversation carried for over a minute, and Derek began to worry once more. “But?” he prodded.

 

“Well, do you think… You’re with Stiles all the time. Do you think he’d mind if his family got a little… bigger?”  John turned away from the glass to look solely at Derek and gauge his reaction. Derek was pretty sure he gave nothing away with his expression.

 

“Sir, I really don’t think he’d mind,” he answered honestly, starting to see where this conversation was heading. Or at least he hoped it was heading in that direction. “Did you already do it?”

 

“I’m sorry?” John asked, forehead pulled tight with worry.

 

“Melissa. You already ask her to marry you?” Derek clarified. He glanced up at the glass and then looked back at John. “Stiles really wouldn’t mind.”

 

“You’re sure?” John asked, frowning.

 

“I’m sure.” Derek shifted to lean forward and balance his arms on his knees. “So did you?”

 

With a shake of his head, John let out a relieved sound. “No. Not yet. But I mean to.”

 

The microphone screeched and both of them winced and looked at the glass in time to see Stiles gripping the mic in both hands and staring right at them as he shouted “Oh My God! What Are You Waiting For?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview Chapter 17
> 
> With Kate behind bars, it’s time to look to the future, and that means helping John plan the best proposal possible. And the senior Stilinski isn’t the only one with big plans in mind. Jordan’s definitely in the mood for wedding bells, and Derek can’t stop thinking about how he and Stiles still aren’t public… but that won’t be true for long.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Kate behind bars, it’s time to look to the future, and that means helping John plan the best proposal possible. And the senior Stilinski isn’t the only one with big plans in mind. Jordan’s definitely in the mood for wedding bells, and Derek can’t stop thinking about how he and Stiles still aren’t public… but that won’t be true for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for reading and doubly thank anyone who reviewed. You all are so fantastic and it’s always a pleasure to write for you.
> 
> I also want to give a shout out to my beta, JessicaMDawn, without whom this story wouldn’t be half of what it is.

Derek had never been part of a wedding proposal before. In all fairness, he’d never actually known anyone who got married. Okay, so people in the company got married regularly, but Derek didn’t know any of them personally and his only involvement was to send them a small flower arrangement, as was company policy.

 

So helping Mr. Stilinski- er… John decorate his New York condo to be really romantic and listening as Jordan walked John through how to cook Gorgonzola Steak, which sounded and smelled amazing but which Derek would unfortunately get none of, was a brand new experience.

 

Stiles was doing a solo concert for a charity event in Times Square, so he was prepping for that instead. Eventually they would all be there, but first Melissa was going to show up for dinner and John would set the mood, and by the time he got Melissa to the concert, she’d probably have figured out the plan and would either bolt or stick around to let it happen. John worried she’d choose option one, but everyone else was certain she’d choose option two.

 

Scott was home with his mom, hopefully doing his part in getting her ready but not freaking her out. And also hopefully not totally ruining the surprise of the night. He’d been very excited when they brought him into the planning party, and he and Stiles had hugged a lot, so Derek could imagine that energy getting the better of him and letting something slip. But Stiles assured Derek that Scott was good for this. If anyone would have spoiled something because of excitement, after all, it would have been Stiles. And Derek had to agree with that.

 

Seven p.m. rolled around quicker than they expected, and Derek was pretty sure John had wanted more flowers and rose lights than Derek had put out, but Derek was also pretty sure that John was not in the right state of mind to be dictating how many lights and flowers were acceptable and how many were just rude.

 

The steak smelled so good that Derek was literally salivating, so when Jordan declared dinner a success and their exit time had arrived, Derek was relieved to leave.

 

Jordan and Derek had barely shut the doors on their car when a taxi rolled up to the curb to let Melissa out. They held their breaths as they watched her walk inside, and only when the door closed behind her did either of them breathe.

 

“You’d think we were afraid she could hear us breathing or something,” Jordan scolded himself and turned the key in the ignition. “Anyway, with that meal, she might end up proposing to him instead.”

 

“You’re that confident in your cooking lesson?” Derek asked. “So humble.”

 

“Hey, humility is good, but pride can be good too, and I am very proud of my kitchen abilities.” Jordan looked behind them and then pulled out onto the street, leaving John Stilinski to his own bumbling dating habits.

 

Derek chuckled softly and looked up at the clear sky. They’d been a little worried about rain, but there wasn’t a cloud in sight. “Has Lydia experienced these masterful kitchen abilities?” he asked as he lowered his eyes back to the street.

 

A noncommittal shrug answered and then Jordan said, “Once, but it was just pork chops. Really I want to make her some chicken cordon bleu, because she really likes it, you know? And I’ve been practicing to get it perfect.”

 

“Sounds like you’re planning for a proposal too,” Derek commented. He wasn’t being serious, but Jordan’s answering silence was more than confirmation. “Wait, are you really thinking about asking her to marry you?”

 

“What do you mean ‘really’?” Jordan asked, a snip in his tone. “We’re soul mates. I love her. But no. I’m not going to ask her to marry me. Not now, at least. Way too many people are getting engaged right now.”

 

Forehead knitting tight, Derek turned his head to regard his best friend. John and Melissa were about to get engaged, they all knew that. But what was Jordan talking about? Derek tried to think of who else Jordan knew that was getting engaged, but all he noticed was that he didn’t know any of Jordan’s other friends.

 

“Who-?” he started, but Jordan started talking at the same time, louder than normal.

 

“I mean I also don’t have a ring,” he said. “That’s kind of important when proposing, right? Can you imagine Lydia’s face if I proposed without a ring?”

 

Derek could. He could see her perfectly shaped eyebrow rising up as she looked around for the nonexistent ring and her disbelieving stare, but he could also see her reaching into her Prada bag and pulling out a ring box and saying “Guess it’s a good thing I bought this the other day.” And then she’d kneel right in front of the already kneeling Jordan and present him with a ring instead, and he would laugh, embarrassed, and it would be nauseatingly sweet.

 

“That actually seems exactly the way you’d do it,” Derek commented offhandedly and shrugged.

 

Their conversation was cut off as they pulled off the road to park. They had to walk a block to get around the people already crowding around the stage, and once they got there, security guards had to let them through the barriers to the backstage.

 

Before Derek could spot Stiles, someone was tackling him from behind, but not hard enough to knock him over. Stiles’ arms locked around Derek’s stomach and he squeezed tightly.

 

“Everything set?” he asked and dropped his arms when he realized Derek wasn’t going to succumb to the bear hug.

 

Derek turned and wrapped Stiles so tight in his arms that the singer squeaked and then wheezed. Releasing Stiles, Derek smirked and said, “Everything set. And here?”

 

“I’m-“ Stiles paused to wheeze again and pressed a hand to his side. “Dude, you’re not supposed to damage me. I’m the face of this enterprise. Jesus.” Derek just rolled his eyes, so Stiles pouted before continuing. “I’m all prepared here. Ready to do my part.”

 

“Good. Now go rock Time Square and raise money for….” Derek frowned, trying to remember.

 

Shaking his head in mock disappointment, Stiles supplied, “Heart disease research?”

 

“Right. Go Red For Women and the American Heart Association,” Derek agreed but Stiles did not look impressed. He bopped Derek in the forehead and then gave him a quick kiss before hurrying over to the stairs. The event manager was there, but Derek couldn’t hear what he said over the roar of the crowd after some people spotted Stiles’ head in view.

 

Just in time, Scott appeared on the scene, a shy but happy Kira holding his hand. They waved as the guard let them through and then the group of now four people huddled on the edge of the stage. Derek and Scott gave each other a one-armed hug, nothing too intimate, but it was far friendlier than the handshake Scott and Jordan shared.

 

Then Stiles was on the stage, greeting everyone and thanking them for their support, and all attention in the group went to him. It was always great to see Stiles in his element, and tonight he seemed just as brilliant as always. Derek didn’t think he’d ever lose the strange warmth that spread through his chest when he saw Stiles possessed by the crowd’s energy. Stiles looked so damn happy on stage, singing to his fans, and that made Derek happy.

 

The concert was sort of a ‘best of’ set list. It was the world premier of “Lonely No More” too, which excited Derek, but he doubted anyone would ever guess the song was inspired by him. After almost two months of being revealed soul mates, the people who knew were still limited to just their small group. Even most of the crew the day of the reveal had no idea what Derek had done to “fix” Stiles.

 

It wasn’t that they hadn’t talked about letting the general public know. The fans already knew Stiles had a blank wrist, after all. The topic was an obvious one. But Stiles kept saying ‘not yet’ and ‘soon’ and other platitudes, and Derek kept letting him. But after the concert, he was going to sit down with Stiles and make sure they had a plan for it, because they couldn’t keep living behind closed doors.

 

The energy was high in the square and the screen above Stiles flashed to show fans had already pledged two hundred thousand dollars before the half time hit. Stiles jumped off stage to change his shirt, as he always did at the halfway point, Derek was learning, and that’s when Melissa and John showed up.

 

They weren’t glowing, per say, but they brought a sort of warmth to the side stage with their beaming smiles and easy intimacy. Melissa’s finger was still barren, so John hadn’t jumped the gun and everything was going as planned.

 

“Right on time,” Stiles said, shrugging on a very nice button up. It was dark blue and sat nice against his pale skin. It also perfectly matched the shirt Stiles had insisted Derek wear when they were getting ready that morning. Derek opened his mouth to comment on it, but then Stiles was climbing back up the steps to the stage.

 

“On time?” Melissa asked, and she sounded genuinely curious but Derek saw the knowing look she cast around them all. She knew.

 

“Okay, Okay, Okay,” Stiles said on stage and the crowd settled. “So according to the screen, you guys are beasts, because I took like two minutes to change my shirt-“

 

“I love you!” someone shouted in the audience.

 

“I love you too,” Stiles threw back in the general direction of the voice. “And I know, right? I mean I look pretty damn good, right?”

 

The crowd erupted into cheers that Stiles soaked up before he held his hand up to quiet them again, and wow. If that wasn’t power, what was?

 

“Anyway, in the last five minutes, we’ve gone from two hundred thousand dollars to three hundred. Three. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars!” Stiles announced loudly and the crowd roared again.

 

That time, Stiles let them go and go until they tapered off on their own, nodding the whole time. He walked back and forth on the stage, wiping his brow and then rubbing his nose before bringing the mic back to his lips. The crowd got very quiet.

 

“Now, as many of you are aware, this event holds a very special place in my heart. Six years ago, my mother passed away from heart failure. We had a pretty good warning for it, but it still came as a shock when she died. I was still a relative nobody at the time. I think I had played one major gig by that point, and by major I mean like five hundred people, and now look at all of you.” He smiled as a few people shouted support and whistled. “So yeah, this concert is partially dedicated to my late mom. Cause she was great, you know? And maybe the money we raise tonight will help someone else’s mom not die.”

 

John put a hand on Melissa’s shoulder then and she put her hand over his in a sign of support, and a little of that knowing glint left her eyes and Derek started to see doubt in them. Stiles’ speech was making her wonder if she’d misread the signs. Derek did his best not to grin.

 

“Anyway, so yeah. This concert is partially for my first mom, but it’s also for my second,” Stiles said, and the crowd began to whisper curiously. Melissa frowned and tried to get information from John’s expression, but the man was doing very well on not revealing anything. “Even before my mom passed, I had a wonderful manager who made sure I got where I needed to go and did what I needed to do for my career, but who also made sure I was taken care of… emotionally. She helped me get through the grieving process and inspired me not to quit on my music. She’s not blood related, but I call her mom, and I’m pretty serious about it even if she thinks I’m joking. And she’s here tonight, so I want to introduce her to you all. Would you like to meet her?”

 

The crowd clapped and cheered, and Derek knew they were just as moved by the idea of her being Stiles’ second mom as they were trying to thank Melissa with their cheers. Without her, they wouldn’t have Stiles.

 

“What?” Melissa gasped.

 

“That’s your cue,” Derek said and took her hand.

 

With minor confusion on her part, Melissa let herself be led up onto the stage by Derek. He took her all the way to Stiles and then handed her off, like a bride at the end of the aisle. He backed up to the stairs then, and while Melissa was distracted by Stiles, he motioned for John to get ready.

 

“Melissa McCall, you’ve been one of the best things about my life these last eleven years, and I know I speak for more than just myself when I say I can’t imagine life without you in it.” Stiles’ grin grew as a tear ran down Melissa’s cheek. He hugged her to the awws of the audience and then he took her hand in his and said, “This next song is for you.”

 

When the music started, it was not a Stiles Stilinski tune. The audience cheered as they recognized John Stilinski’s song start up and Derek could see the excitement on their faces as they waited to hear Stiles cover his father’s music.

 

“It’s hard for me to say the things I want to say sometimes. There’s no one here but you and me and that broken old street light,” Stiles sang, and Melissa covered her mouth with her free hand.

 

It was a love song. One of Derek’s favorites to come out of John Stilinski’s band, and as far as their recon had shown, it was also Melissa’s favorite. Coming from Stiles to her, the song was almost sweeter than if it was coming from a lover.

 

“Thank you for loving me. For being my eyes when I couldn’t see. For parting my lips when I couldn’t breathe. Thank you for loving me,” Stiles sang and kissed her hand.

 

Derek motioned and John ascended the steps right as Stiles’ lips landed on Melissa’s hand. The crowd gave away John’s appearance, but Melissa must have thought they were excited over the kiss because she didn’t turn around until after Derek had handed John the second microphone and the older Stilinski started singing.

 

“I never knew I had a dream until that dream was you. When I look into your eyes, the sky’s a different blue.” His voice was deeper than Stiles’, more robust. He was like a strong coffee where Stiles was like creamy hot chocolate.

 

Now Melissa was definitely crying, and with both her hands now freed, she didn’t know what to do with them. She covered her mouth but then pulled them away and pressed them together like she was praying and then they went back to her lips.

 

“Thank you for loving me. For being my eyes when I couldn’t see. For parting my lips when I couldn’t breathe. Thank you for loving me,” John said, finishing the second verse, and then he dropped down on one knee before her and produced the ring.

 

The crowd couldn’t have been louder if the microphones had been out among them. For a long moment, John and Melissa just smiled at each other. The band was playing the tune of the song very quietly in the background, on repeat until however long it took to complete the moment. So as soon as the crowd started to quiet, John put the mic to his lips.

 

“Melissa McCall – like Stiles said. I can’t imagine life without you in it. So would you do me the honor of marrying me?” he asked.

 

He almost went to hand her the microphone, but she sort of snatched it away before he could. She was still crying a little from the song, but now she was laughing as she said, “That’s the stupidest question you’ve asked me in eleven years – including the time you asked me if I wanted a Reese cup when you know I’m allergic to peanuts.” The crowd laughed with her, and then she offered him her hand and nodded. “Yes.”

 

John didn’t have the mic anymore, but his breath of relief was almost audible, even over the erupted cheers of the audience. He slipped the ring on her finger and stood to embrace her, and she hugged him tightly in return. The band swelled the music to return to the song as they shared their first kiss as an engaged couple – was it their first kiss ever? Part of Derek doubted it.

 

Then Stiles and his father sang together. “Thank you for loving me. For being my eyes when I couldn’t see. You parted my lips when I couldn’t breathe. Thank you for loving me.”

 

Derek was still by the stairs and he realized too late that he should have stepped down, but no one had called to him to remind him either, and he thought that was foolish on them as well as him. He actually started to move the two short steps to the stairs, but Stiles caught his eye and waved him over.

 

With his eyes, Derek asked if Stiles was sure he wanted Derek to walk out into the middle of the family thing. Stiles raised his eyebrows in insistence and Derek took a deep breath. Well it seemed Stiles had come up with a ‘coming out’ plan all on his own.

 

Derek got all the way to them without the crowd paying him much mind at all, but they definitely took note of the way Stiles slipped his hand into Derek’s and turned to serenade him with the last part of the song.

 

“When I couldn’t fly, oh, you gave me wings. You parted my lips when I couldn’t breathe. Thank you for loving me.” Then Stiles leaned in and they kissed. On stage. In front of thousands of people and live TV cameras.

 

The music swelled and then died out as the crowd lost their minds over the kiss. John and Melissa were hugging again and being really too cute to bear, but the crowd’s attention was back on Stiles again.

 

“Also, please give a loving round of applause for this man!” Stiles shouted to get over the noise and held up Derek’s hand. “I’d like to formally introduce you all to my soul mate and personal Superman – Derek Hale!”

\-- -- -- --

 

The concert raised seven hundred fifteen thousand dollars, roughly, when you included the money from ticket sales for the good seats and the percentage of sales from vendors selling food and merchandise around the edges. And the bank that hosted matched the first hundred thousand dollars. But the fans did most of it.

 

This amazing feat meant the concert was covered on all major news stations the following night. Which meant even serious news eventually had to talk about John Stilinski’s engagement and Stiles Stilinski’s new soul mate.

 

Part of Derek really hated that. There was literally no more public way to announce themselves as a couple.

 

The other part of him knew he’d gone over to Stiles of his own free will and, like Melissa, he’d known exactly what doing so would mean.  So really he couldn’t even properly blame Stiles.

 

But he probably still would have made an effort to seem like he was blaming Stiles, if not for the fact that he woke up the next morning with a plate full of bacon presented to him in bed. He’d had dreams like this before, but this smelled too real to be a dream. Stiles was also straddling him since he was the one holding the plate in front of Derek’s face like a batch of smelling salts, and that was a new addition to the bacon dream.

 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, sleep still sticking to him but reaching for the bacon anyway. Stiles let him finish the whole piece and grab another one before he started speaking, which was a surprising amount of self control for so early in the morning.

 

“I wanted to apologize for not consulting you before throwing our relationship out on live television,” Stiles said and turned the plate so Derek could better grab slices. “I told dad I was gonna do it, but no one else, so it’s not like you were the only one left out. Literally everyone was left out.”

 

“Stiles,” Derek groaned. He couldn’t even sit up.

 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, leaning forward and making Derek’s inability to move even worse.

 

“Do you realize you’re pinning me to the bed?” Derek could only move one arm, the one he was eating with. Stiles had effectively trapped every other part of him. Not to say Derek couldn’t force his way up, but that would upset the bacon as well as Stiles, and he didn’t think the bacon could be salvaged afterward.

 

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled. “I figured you would be less inclined to kill me if you couldn’t move.”

 

A tired laugh escaped Derek’s throat and then he sighed. “Stiles, you brought me a plate of bacon for breakfast. I’m not going to kill you. Although it is five a.m. and even you should be asleep.”

 

“Too much energy,” Stiles said and grabbed a piece of bacon. He set the plate on Derek’s chest before extricating himself from the position he’d gotten into. It only took a little more effort than normal, but the bacon remained on the plate, so it was a win.

 

Sitting up in bed, Derek noticed that making bacon was not the only thing Stiles had done at five a.m.

 

They were at Stiles’ loft apartment in New York and had been for several days. Being head of Stiles’ permanent security now meant he always had to be in the same city and sometimes the same building, but because of their relationship, he was often in the same apartment or the same room. Derek had been in this room every night, but this morning things were different.

 

“You cleaned,” Derek muttered, but it was more than that.  The apartment was spotless, and there were flowers in a vase that Derek recalled Stiles getting after the concert from the sponsor, and there was a single candle burning and filling the air with rustic wood cabin, or whatever scent Stiles had picked at random, but the most notable thing was Derek’s stuff.

 

Even after a week, Derek’s travel bags had not been fully unpacked. His bags sat in a corner, waiting for him to search through them for whatever he needed. But not anymore. In fact he didn’t see the bags anywhere. He did see his stuff though. The closet door was open, showing that his button down shirts had been washed, ironed, and hung up. His pants too, except for his backup pajama bottoms, which were folded neatly on top of the dresser.

 

The photo of the immediate Hale family that Derek always traveled with was sitting next to the photo of Stiles and his father on top of the short bookcase. And although Derek was a good distance away from the bathroom, he thought he could see some of his bathroom supplies lined up neatly on the counter through the open door.

 

Before he could do much more than take note of these changes, Stiles was back, sitting calmly beside Derek on the mattress. It was such a controlled movement that it instantly seized Derek’s full attention.

 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, setting the bacon aside.

 

“What? Yeah, of course,” Stiles said, but Derek didn’t believe him. “Give me your hand.”

 

Obediently, Derek held his hand out, and Stiles turned it palm side up. Without explanation, he dropped something light but metallic into Derek’s palm. Then he pulled away and put his hands on his knees while he waited for Derek to fully comprehend what had just happened.

 

A key. Stiles had given Derek a key. Which was silly, because Derek already had a key, since he was Stiles’ head of security and Stiles had agreed to let Derek have a copy of just about every key important to Stiles’ life, including his apartment key.

 

“That’s yours,” Stiles said. “I know you already have like a billion keys to my life, but this one’s different.” He pressed his lips together for a moment and then licked them. “This one isn’t a just key. But it’s yours… if you want it.”

 

Derek frowned curiously down at the key, which definitely looked like just a key. He held it closer to his face and turned it over in his hand. On the other side, the key had been engraved, but instead of a company logo or name, it was a set of words.

 

Carved into the soft metal of the key, hard to read in the lamp light, were the words “Move In. Stay Forever.”

 

Derek reached over and pulled one of Stiles’ hands into his own. “Are you proposing to me now?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his tone, and Stiles chuckled.

 

“Like father, like son, right?” he asked and Derek just smiled.

 

Slowly but without hesitation, Derek closed the distance between them and kissed Stiles in the tender way the early hour demanded. “Then I guess my answer is yes. But now you have to tell me something.”

 

“What?” Stiles asked, and his face was breaking into a grin.

 

“How did Jordan know?” Derek asked, voice dead serious as he remembered his friend’s comment in the car.

 

A laugh burst out of Stiles like an air balloon popping. “Because I asked him for advice, duh! Who else could tell me you always dreamed of waking up to a plate of bacon in bed?”

 

With a noise of acceptance, Derek wrapped Stiles up in his arms and pulled them both back down onto the mattress. “So your father is engaged,” Derek murmured, closing his eyes as he relaxed. Stiles grunted affirmation. “And now you’re engaged.” The noise Stiles gave in response was a delusional sort of approval, like his brain was having trouble accepting that Derek had said yes. “And half of your friends are all dating each other. Sounds exhausting. We should go back to bed.”

 

“But what about the bacon?” Stiles asked, although he didn’t struggle to get out of Derek’s arms or sit up.

 

“We can try the bacon thing again in at least two hours,” Derek said. “For now, Stiles, shut up and sleep.”

 

And Stiles did shut up. For about two minutes.

 

Then, in the darkness of the morning hours, Stiles said, “I love you.” It was clear and strong in the otherwise silent apartment, and Derek smiled into the back of Stiles’ shoulder as they spooned on the bed.

 

When Stiles had been on the burning bus, Derek had sent him a message saying he needed to tell Stiles something important, and yet he hadn’t done so in all this time. And now, Stiles had said it first. And those words that Derek should have said months ago filled Derek with a contentedness he’d never felt before. Because they were real and they were from his soul mate and because-

 

“I love you too,” he said.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the songs used in the fic (whether actual lyrics or just mentioned), check out this playlist of six songs on Youtube.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5d7EbtLb8ok&index=1&list=PLx9RM1CdboCAf2tRPTO9S52hnFJaz4d3g


End file.
